


Untitled (Aka: The Ring Fic)

by pippinmctaggart



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Realization, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-01-08
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 59,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3973186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippinmctaggart/pseuds/pippinmctaggart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>A/N: Please note, this is a WIP.</b> Has not had the final spanking it sorely needs, but has been lovingly encouraged along the way by the marvellous <span class="ljuser i-ljuser i-ljuser-type-P"></span><a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://elmathelas.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://elmathelas.livejournal.com/"><b>elmathelas</b></a>. Any mistakes are most definitely mine.</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N: Please note, this is a WIP.** Has not had the final spanking it sorely needs, but has been lovingly encouraged along the way by the marvellous [](http://elmathelas.livejournal.com/profile)[**elmathelas**](http://elmathelas.livejournal.com/). Any mistakes are most definitely mine.

 

 

“You okay, Billy?” Dom asked, a little concerned.

Billy smiled tiredly as he plodded toward the makeup trailer to have his wig and ears removed. No feet today, thank God. “Yeah. It’s just been a long week, you know?”

“I know. Pete’s been rough on you the last few days, too.”

“Only because he’s had to be,” Billy said with disgust, kicking at the gravel path. “I’m just going to have to work harder.”

“You already work plenty hard.” Dom would have stopped him then, would have sat him on the step of the trailer and demanded to know what had been throwing Billy off-kilter recently, but the door opened just as he was about to speak. Melanie, one of the ‘wiggies’ as Billy affectionately called them (and only he could get away with it), stood with her hands on her hips.

“We’ve been waiting for you two,” she said darkly, but her eyes twinkled. “Everyone else has been done for ages.”

Billy trudged up the steps and past without meeting her eyes. “Sorry, Melly.”

Melanie was taken aback. Never had Billy let her get away with that, with reprimanding them. She knew--and he knew she knew--they always came to the trailer as soon as they’d been released. She looked at Dom, but he just shrugged and patted her arm as he ducked past her.

Billy was mostly quiet during the time it took to get their ears and wigs off, only answering when directly questioned.

“How were the new pins, Billy?” Melanie asked him as she pulled them out. “Did they dig in less?”

He gave her a little smile. “They were great. That was a brilliant idea, Mel.”

“Good, I’m glad.” She smiled back kindly. “We’ll stick with those, then.” She took the last one out, put them in their container, then leaned down to pull off a bit more glue from Billy’s hairline and around his ears. Not looking at his face, she quietly asked, “Everything okay?”

“Mostly. Just one of those weeks, I think.”

“All right. Well, that’s you finished for another day. Go on with you—and try and get some sleep, you look knackered.”

Billy smiled genuinely. “That’s my plan. Thanks, Melly, love. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You really are out to lunch,” she laughed sympathetically. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, Billy. Much as I adore playing with your hair, I’m not coming in on my day off. And from the sound of you, you’d better spend the day resting up.”

He groaned. “Oh good God—I would have been up at four-thirty if you hadn’t said that. Bless you.” He fervently kissed her cheek.

Melanie laughed, saw Dom getting out of his chair. “Dom, take this poor boy home before he does himself an injury, will you?”

Dom grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Come along, little Billy,” he cooed, getting smacked for his troubles.

 

 

Dom steered Billy toward his car, but Billy pulled away.

“No, I have to go back to the trailer first,” he objected.

“Tell me what you need, and I’ll go get it,” Dom said. “You just relax here.”

“My book and my ring. Oh, and that Tea Party CD ‘Lij loaned me.”

“All right. Where’d you leave your ring?”

Billy yawned. “On the counter. I was running late this morning.”

“Okay. Hold tight, I’ll be right back.” Dom sprinted off in the direction of the trailer shared by the hobbits and the elf. They used it for naps, to hang out if shooting was delayed for several hours, and once in a while one of them would even spend the night in it if they had to be on set earlier than usual the following morning.

Billy leaned against his car and waited. He loved having the car, it was a bit of extra freedom on their days off, it meant they could go surfing when they wanted to—but this experiment of driving himself and Dom to and fro every day wasn’t working very well. Billy was so tired some days he was afraid it was actually unsafe for him to be behind the wheel. Time to go back to being picked up, and save the car for days off.

Finally Dom came loping back, a little out of breath. He handed over Billy’s well-thumbed copy of Lord of the Rings and Elijah’s CD. “Here you go. Why don’t you let me drive? You look absolutely kippered.”

“Where’s my ring?”

“It wasn’t on the counter. You sure you wore it today?” Dom took the keys out of Billy’s hand.

“What do you mean it wasn’t on the counter? I put it there, right in the corner, just before I left the trailer this morning. You must have missed it,” Billy accused, clearly annoyed.

“It wasn’t there, Bill, I checked twice. But ‘Lij has been in there, the trailer’s a mess. He probably knocked it off. Leave it ‘til Monday, we’ll find it then.”

“No. I’ll be right back.” Billy started in the direction of the trailer.

“Billy, leave it, it’s late!” Dom called after him.

“I’m not leaving without my ring, Dom. I’ll be right back.”

Dom waited, patiently at first, flipping through the book a little. He read the page Billy had marked, pleased to see it was a Merry and Pippin scene, even though it hadn’t made it into the script. It was the part where they had just escaped the Orcs and Uruk-hai outside Fangorn. “’As they walked’,” Dom read, his voice seeming loud in the quiet night, “’they compared notes, talking lightly in hobbit-fashion of the things that had happened since their capture. No listener would have guessed from their words that they had suffered cruelly…’” Dom trailed off, struck anew at the absolute genius that Pete had shown in his casting. He and Billy often joked they had been opposite-cast—in many ways, Billy was more like Merry and Dom more Pippin-ish. But time and again it had been proved they were playing the characters they were meant to, and together they _were_ Merry and Pippin. Dom looked again at the lines he’d just read. He and Billy did that—talked lightly on serious matters. But was it for the best? Sometimes, they all knew, hobbits didn’t take things seriously enough. Did he and Billy gloss over things that deserved more weight? Then again—he read the same words for the third time—by keeping things light, Merry and Pippin were able to keep going when they might otherwise be overwhelmed. So which was best? Or was a combination perhaps the route to take?

And that was where his inner Pippin really showed through—he sometimes didn’t know when to cut out the joking, the teasing, when to get serious. And Billy—Merry to Dom’s Pippin—sensed the importance of matters and moments that passed Dom by, he grasped the weight of problems and knew when to deal with them, knew when a joke was no longer appropriate. Dom looked up, wanting to get Billy’s take on it, but there was no sign of him. He frowned, realizing Billy had been gone for some time, and headed back to the trailer.

He began to laugh the second he opened the door. If he thought the trailer had been a mess before, it was near a disaster now. All the cushions were flung off the benches, the CD player was sitting in the refrigerator, every cupboard was open, and the blankets had been pulled off the bed. Billy was on his hands and knees under the small table.

“Billy, what the hell are you doing?” Dom chuckled.

“I can’t find it!” His cry was muffled under the furniture.

“What, your ring?”

“Yes, I left it in here this morning and now I can’t find it!” There was anger and frustration in his voice, and something else Dom couldn’t quite pin down, he’d never heard that odd note in Billy’s voice before.

“Billy, relax man. Why don’t we tidy up and leave it for now?” Dom said. “If you don’t want to wait until Monday, then we can come back tomorrow, it’ll be easier to find in daylight.”

“Either help me look, or get the fuck out, Dom,” Billy snapped, backing out from under the table.

“Billy!” Dom protested, surprised.

“Move,” he ordered curtly.

Dom stepped aside. “Billy, you’re tired, you’re overreacting a little, this is—“

“I’m not going anywhere. If you want to leave, go. Take my car. I can’t leave without my ring.”

“If you call it your ‘precious’, Bill, I’m getting you some help.” Dom tried teasing him out of this odd mood.

“Not fucking funny, Dom,” Billy ground out. “Leave me the hell alone.” Coming from Billy, who was very down to earth even if he _was_ one of the funniest people Dom had ever known, this behaviour was almost…frightening.

“Okay, okay,” Dom held his hands out in surrender. “I’m sorry. This isn’t like you, though. You want to tell me what’s going on?” He sat on the cushionless bench.

“What’s going on is that I can’t find my fucking ring, and I’m not interested in a bloody _chat_ right now. Just go, will you? I have to find it!”

Dom realized what that odd note in Billy’s voice was. It was outright panic. “Billy,” he said gently. “Calm down, mate. It’s just a ring—“

“It’s _not_ just a ring!” Billy shouted, rearing up on his knees. “It’s not just any bloody ring, Dom! It’s my Dad’s ring! I’ve lost my Dad’s fucking wedding ring!”

Dom stared at him in growing comprehension and dawning horror. “Oh, _shit_.”

“You’re damned right ‘oh shit’. I have to find it, Dom!”

Dom dropped the book and CD on the table. “All right. You go down to the far end and work your way back. I’ll start at this end. We’ll find it, Billy, it has to be here somewhere.” He laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder and quietly said, “We’ll find it.” He turned brisk again. “Right. There are supposed to be some torches in here. Have you come across them?”

Distractedly, Billy said, “No. But I think Sean said he stored them under one of those benches.”

Dom lifted the seat to the first bench and pulled out two small torches. “Excellent. Here you go.” He tossed one to Billy, turned his own on, and began to help Billy search. He went over the benches inch by inch, checking for cracks a ring could have fallen into. He even checked the cushions for holes. “Is it gold or silver?” he suddenly asked, unable to remember.

“White gold.”

“It’s plain, right?”

“Yes.”

Dom lifted the small mat by the door. He even opened the door and checked the steps in case it had gotten kicked out, but the torch illuminated nothing but steel and dirt.

Billy, meanwhile, was frantically searching the bed, lifting each end of the mattress in turn, checking for large cracks just as Dom had done. He wasn’t even sure how or why his ring would have gotten back there, but he was leaving nothing to chance.

They continued searching in near-silence for almost twenty minutes. Dom could tell Billy was starting to lose hope, could see it in the way he kept raking fingers through his hair, the way he kept jumping from spot to spot to search, then going back and re-checking what he’d just examined.

Dom went back to the counter where Billy said he’d left the ring that morning, stood there thinking. He tried to picture where it might have gone if it had rolled off, or been knocked off. He absently shone his torch down along the bottom of the cupboards, but both he and Billy had looked there several times.

But—wait. Where had that gap come from? It hadn’t been there before. Dom shifted his weight, and the space between the floor and the kickboard of the cupboard disappeared. He shifted again, and it was back. He realized the floor gave just a bit, when stood on just so, and what if… Glancing at Billy, who was again searching the tiny WC, Dom lowered himself to the floor. Pushing on that spot as hard as he could with his elbow, Dom managed to open the fissure just enough to see that there was indeed something in there—something that glinted.

“Billy!” he called, and the unintended hope in his voice had Billy at his side in a second.

“Did you find it? Please tell me you found it!” he pleaded.

Dom wriggled a little to the side. “I’m not sure,” he cautioned. “Put your foot here and step down.”

Billy stood where instructed, looking anxiously at the spot Dom was focused on. “Do you see it? Is it there?”

“Move your foot around a bit. We need to make the gap bigger.”

Billy shifted around a little until Dom said, “That’s it. Hold still.” He froze. The way he was now standing, he couldn’t see the opening, and the suspense was killing him.

Dom knew he’s never get his finger in there, and he didn’t want to risk pushing it further back or next thing he knew Billy would be tearing up the bloody floor. “Hand me a knife out of the drawer, would you Bill?”

Without moving his feet, Billy reached over and pulled a knife out of the cutlery drawer, passing it down to Dom handle-first. “Is it my ring? Can you see it?”

“I see something. I think it might be…just give me—one second—“ Dom carefully slid the knife in the opening, tongue sticking out as he concentrated on easing the object out. Finally he had it free of the kickplate, and he picked it up and handed it directly to Billy, who snatched it from him in relief.

“Oh, thank God!” he cried, putting it on his finger and clenching his fist. “Dom—thank you—“

Dom climbed to his feet, tossing the knife in the aluminum sink with a loud clatter. “No problem, mate. Told you we’d find it.”

Billy just looked at him, then suddenly turned away, taking a few steps toward the back of the trailer.

“So. You ready to go? No one’s going to need the trailer tomorrow, so we can come back in the afternoon to tidy up.” Dom casually tossed one of the cushions back on the bench.

“You go. Take the car,” Billy said, his voice low and tight.

“What?” Dom frowned, took a step towards him. “You’ve got your ring, you should go home and get some sleep.”

“I’m staying. Go away, Dom.”

“Billy?” Dom was very unsure what was happening. He rather suspected this was one of his Pippin-ish moments, and that something important was getting away from him. He took another step toward Billy, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the way he stood hunched over. He quietly, uncertainly asked, “Shall I stay with you, Bill? We could talk.”

Billy rounded on him, his eyes red, and wildly said, “I don’t want to fucking talk! Just leave me alone!” But his angry words ended with a sob and he quickly turned away again, leaning against the wall.

There was no way Dom was going to leave Billy in that state. He moved behind him, wrapped his arms around Billy’s chest, and leaned his chin on one shoulder. “Okay,” he said softly. “We don’t have to talk.” He held Billy tightly, wordlessly, even when Billy tried in vain to shake him off.

“Go away, Dom,” he choked.

“No.”

Billy wept. He would have much preferred privacy while he lost it like this, but then again he’d spent enough time feeling alone lately, and now that Dom wasn’t insisting on talking constantly, it was almost comforting to have him there. He cried, helpless to stop now that he’d begun, his shoulders shaking in Dom’s arms, his throat raw.

Finally, slowly, his sobs began to ease as he cried himself out. He gulped, tried to wipe his face on his sleeve, but having Dom clamped around him hindered his effort. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

Dom gave him an extra-hard squeeze, making him grunt, then let him go. Billy stayed where he was, propped against the wall, trying to get himself under control. Dom searched for a moment before finding the box of tissues in a closet, making him shake his head, smiling a little. He set the box on the counter, pulled a couple tissues out, and pushed them into Billy’s hand. As Billy loudly blew his nose, Dom retrieved the CD player from the refrigerator where Billy had obviously stuck it to get it out of the way, and put it back on the counter. He also took out a bottle of water and returned to Billy, who seemed to have calmed down somewhat.

Billy scrubbed at his face, groaning a little. He hadn’t lost it like that in years. Thank God if anyone had to witness it, it was Dom.

Dom handed him the bottle of water. “Go sit outside for a few minutes, get some fresh air.”

“Dom,” Billy said, his voice rough, “I appreciate your help, I really do. But you might as well go home.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dom said firmly, and shoved him toward the door.

“Dom—“

“Out. And don’t disappear on me.”

Billy closed the door behind himself, and Dom peeked out the window to see him sit on the steps, drinking deeply from his water bottle.

It took Dom nearly twenty minutes to set the trailer back to rights—probably double the time it took Billy to demolish it in the first place—but finally everything was back where it belonged. He was just finishing re-making the bed when Billy came back in, shivering and looking sheepish.

“It’s getting cold out—“ he started, then saw the state of the trailer. “Dom—you shouldn’t have—I was going to—“

“I know. It’s all right, I don’t mind. You realize there’s very little food here, don’t you? No one’s restocked recently,” Dom said cheerfully. “We’ve got two apples, some very ripe bananas—and you don’t like them if they’re too ripe, do you—chocolate biscuits, and stuffed olives.”

“Olives?”

Dom grinned. “Orlando’s martini phase.”

“Speaking of which—“ Billy went to his cupboard. Each of them who shared this trailer had their own little cubbyhole in which they could keep emergency essentials, like spare pants for when they stayed over. Billy opened his, pulled out a hooded jumper and donned it, zipping it up. Then he reached to the very back of the space and pulled out a nearly-full bottle of Scotch whisky.

Dom dropped an arm around Billy’s shoulders. “Mate. Pal. The best friend a bloke could ever have. Want a biscuit?” He grinned and held up the package of chocolate cookies.

Billy smiled, and it warmed Dom to see it. “Scotch and chocolate are not a good combination. Let’s start with the Scotch.”

Dom hesitated. “Shouldn’t you eat something first, Bill? You didn’t have much dinner—“

“You want to start with food? Be my guest. I’m having a drink.” He reached for the cupboard above the sink and pulled out two tumblers. He poured a good three fingers into one of the glasses, left the bottle sitting on the counter, and took a long sip. And then another. And then topped up his glass before sliding in on one side of the table.

Dom poured a smaller drink and joined Billy, sitting opposite him. He tasted the whisky. “’S good.”

“It ought to be. It was bloody expensive.”

“Then slow down and enjoy it,” Dom suggested wryly.

“Yes, mum.” But as soon as he’d said it, Billy lowered his eyes and took another sip from his glass.

Dom watched him for a moment. He was determined not to mess this up by channeling his inner Pippin again. He tried to think how Billy would handle it, if their positions were reversed. “So,” he said quietly but easily, “It was your dad’s ring, huh? I’ve seen you wearing it, but I guess I never realized you wear it all the time. Can I see it?”

Billy laid his hand flat on the table between them. “I wear it every day except when I go surfing,” he said shortly. “But now I’m never taking it off again.”

Dom leaned forward to look at it. It was just a plain band, and now that he knew, he wondered why he’d never noticed before that it was obviously a wedding ring. It was that unique colour that was silver, but not, gold but not. And it looked, as he now knew it was, well-worn. He gently said, “Unfortunately, Billy, Pippin doesn’t wear jewelry. And I don’t think you’ll convince Pete at this point that he should.”

“Fuck.” Billy pressed against his eyes with the heels of his hands. “ _Fuck_.”

“I, however,” Dom continued in the same kindly tone, “am not your best mate for nothing.” He got up and went to his own cupboard, rummaging through spare shorts and t-shirts and magazines and CD’s until he found what he was looking for. He emptied it out on the bottom of his cubby and then took it to the sink. Dampening a cloth, he carefully wiped it out, then returned to the table. In the centre, where Billy’s hand had been, Dom placed the little rosewood box, leaving it open to dry.

Billy looked at it, looked at Dom, raised his eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“It’s now Billy’s box. You can put your ring in it every day you’re here and keep it safe in your cupboard, on the counter, in the fridge—wherever you like. Everyone will know not to touch it. Or they’ll have to answer to me.”

He looked like he didn’t know how to respond. “Answer to you?” he finally said. “There’s a threat.”

“Funny man.”

“Dom—didn’t your mum give you that?”

Dom nodded. “Before I left. Said to use it to keep precious things in.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been using it for spare change.”

“I can’t take that,” he said, his voice low.

“Yes you can. I’ll email Mum and ask her to send another one, if that would make you feel better. But trust me, she’d be perfectly happy about this.” Dom paused, then softly said, “Bill—your ring is a little more precious than my effing spare change. And I don’t want to see you go through this again.”

Billy’s nose reddened, and Dom wondered if he was embarrassed, until Billy looked up at him and his eyes were glassy with tears again. “Thanks, Dom,” he whispered, before taking another long drink from his glass. He finally set it down and swiped at his eyes and nose. “God, I’m turning into a fucking jessie.”

“Jessie?”

“Big girl’s blouse, is your colourful equivalent.”

Dom chuckled. “Hardly. You’re just tired and a little stressed out, Billy.”

“Tell me about it,” he muttered.

Dom stretched to reach for the bottle on the counter. “I was just going to say the same thing.” He added a bit more Scotch to his glass, hesitated when Billy gestured to his own, but when he pushed it insistently across, Dom topped it up a little. “Start talking, Bills.”

Billy looked up at the new nickname, but didn’t comment. “Start talking about what?” he hedged.

“About why you’re tired and stressed. Why it’s been a long week. Why Pete’s been riding you the last couple days.”

Billy stared at the tabletop. “You don’t ask much, do you?”

“Start with the easiest one, then. After all,” Dom smiled, “if you can’t tell _me_ …”

“Who can I tell?” Billy finished softly. And then he was silent.

Although it was hard, Dom kept quiet. How many times had Billy asked him something, then sat back and given Dom the time to sort out his thoughts? He toyed with the Scotch bottle.

Finally Billy reached out, pulled the little rosewood box closer, fingering it delicately as he said, “I’m tired because—well, we’re all tired, aren’t we? It’s been a long shoot and we still have a long way to go. I’m just waiting for my second wind, I suppose.”

Dom shook his head. “It’s more than that.” He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he was absolutely positive of that fact. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“A little, I guess.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means a little,” Billy snapped, then sighed gustily. “Sorry. Sometimes I can’t get to sleep right away. Or sometimes I get to sleep with no trouble, and then I wake up in the middle of the night. I’m sure it will go away soon.”

“Tomorrow you can sleep as long as you want,” Dom reminded him. “I’ll be extra-quiet.”

He smiled a little. “We’ll see what happens.”

Dom grinned. “You don’t think I can be quiet.”

Billy couldn’t help a little chuckle. “Your track record doesn’t fill me with confidence, no.”

“Well, I’ll show you,” he said comfortably. “I’ll be so quiet you’ll sleep ‘til noon. Just you wait and see.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t hold my breath?”

Dom stuck his tongue out. Gave him a minute, then said, “So that was the easy one?”

Billy’s eyes dropped to the box again. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to tell me about another one? It might help.”

His face twisted in distaste. “Or you’ll think I’m a whingeing fuckwit who doesn’t deserve to be here.”

Dom snorted. “As our young Ringbearer would say—what _ever_.” He paused, then cautiously asked, “You don’t really feel that way, do you?”

Billy shrugged. “Sometimes. But not really, I suppose.”

“So why would I think that?”

“I guess you wouldn’t,” he admitted. “Not you.”

Dom looked at Billy. Stared, really. He thought maybe—just maybe—for the first time he was seeing something of great importance before Billy did. A hint of something, anyway. Maybe he had more Merry in him than he’d thought. “Go on, then,” he said quietly. “Now that we’ve established that I won’t think you’re a whingeing fuckwit.”

Billy wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m—I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Why has Pete been at you?”

“Oh, come on, Dom, you were there.” He leaned back abruptly, his breath huffing out his nose. “I’ve been fucking up. I’m forgetting lines, I’m screwing up blocking, I can’t seem to deliver what he’s asking for—I’m a walking disaster.”

“It’s hardly that bad,” Dom said gently. “You’re having an off-week, yes. Everybody does at some point. You remember when Sean kept dropping Sam’s accent? But I think Pete’s being overly hard on you. It’s not like you’ve been anything but professional up to this point.”

Billy shrugged again. “Oh, I don’t blame Pete. He can’t afford to coddle distracted actors, there’s too much on the line.” He took another long drink, draining his glass. He reached across the table and took the bottle from Dom, pouring another inch in his glass. Dom opened his mouth, but Billy glared at him. “What the hell is with you? You’d think neither of us had ever been drinking before. It’s one bottle, Dom.”

Dom closed his mouth again. Billy was right, of course. As long as they shared it relatively evenly, at worst they’d get a bit pissed. He stretched and took the bottle back, topped up his own tumbler, then put it in the centre of the table so they could both easily reach it.

Billy nodded approvingly. “Thank you.”

“So why distracted?” Dom asked.

“What?”

“You said Pete can’t afford to coddle distracted actors. What’s distracting you?”

“Lots of things. Where are those olives? They’re salty, they’d be all right with whisky.”

“That’s disgustin’, Bill.” Dom wrinkled his nose.

“Better than chocolate biscuits,” he pointed out.

“Not by much.” Dom hooked his foot around the central support of the table and leaned out precariously to open the small fridge under the counter. Grunting, he managed to grasp the bottle of olives with his fingertips. He closed the fridge door, and realized he was stuck. “Bugger.”

Billy stuck his arm out across the table. “Here.”

Dom grasped Billy’s wrist and used him as counterbalance to haul himself upright. “Thanks. There you go.” He handed the jar of olives to Billy. “Go wild, you nutter.”

“Nutter? You know you want one.” Billy unscrewed the lid. Stared at its contents. “You know, a spoon would be good.”

Dom sighed exaggeratedly.

“Yeah, you’re so hard done by.” Billy’s sudden grin was as delightful as it was unexpected.

Dom froze for an instant. Delightful? Sure, he found Billy attractive, he’d realized that some time ago. But delightful? Ah, it had to be the Scotch. He relaxed, grinning back. “Don’t you know it, Bills.”

He cocked his head to the side curiously. “Why ‘Bills’?”

“I don’t know. Just feels right. Do you mind?” He held out his arm again, waited until Billy grasped his wrist tightly, and again leaned out, this time to pull open the drawer and grab a spoon. He made a strangled noise as he pulled himself up again. As Billy let go of his arm, Dom dropped the spoon on the table with a clatter.

“Mind?” Billy picked it up and started fishing with it in the jar. “Not at all. I kind of like it.”

“Good. Ow, I think I pulled something.” He rubbed his side.

Billy pulled out an olive, popped it in his mouth, and spoke around it. “You could have got up, you know.”

Dom took a drink from his glass. “That would have defeated the purpose.”

“There was a purpose in that?”

“Yeah. Not getting up,” Dom grinned.

Billy laughed out loud. He fished out another olive, and offered it to Dom on the spoon.

Dom took it, ate it, took another sip of Scotch. “You know, that’s not so bad.”

“Told you.”

“You’re so smart.”

“I am, you know.” Billy nodded solemnly.

Dom snickered. “You’re also getting just a little bit tight.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Then so are you,” Billy insisted.

“I never said I wasn’t.”

“Let’s go outside,” he suddenly suggested.

Dom frowned. “What for?”

“It’s dark out. Let’s go look at the stars.”

Dom hesitated, thinking there was a reason this wasn’t the best idea, but for the life of him he couldn’t put his finger on it. He shrugged. “All right.”

Billy evened up the whisky in their tumblers, then climbed to his feet. “Come on.”

They picked up their glasses and made their way quite steadily out the door, where Dom immediately recalled why he’d hesitated. “It’s fucking cold out here!” he complained.

“What do you expect?” Billy asked reasonably. “It’s August. It’s not even spring yet.”

“I still can’t get used to that. It’s not natural.”

“As a matter of fact, it’s _quite_ —“

“Oh, shut up, Billy.”

Billy giggled.

“You just giggled!” Dom accused, grinning at him.

“I did not!”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too. I can’t see any stars.” Dom craned his neck.

“Did not. Maybe the trees are in the way. Come on, let’s go over there. There’s a field past those trees.” Billy started in that direction.

“Did too. Wait for me, it’s dark.”

“Aw, is poor wee Dom feart of the dark?” Billy teased.

“No. But I don’t have your freakish cat-like night vision,” he grumbled. “If I break my neck, Pete’ll kill you.”

“Come here, then.” Billy waited for Dom to reach his side, then linked his elbow through the other man’s. “Watch your drink. Better go leftie.”

Dom switched his drink to his left hand. “Lay on, MacDuff.”

“Ooh, very good. Very apropos.”

Dom dipped his head in acknowledgement. “I thought so.”

They reached the other side of the stand of trees with only a few small stumbles on Dom’s part. Thanks to Billy’s steadying arm, not only did he not fall, but not a drop of his drink was spilled.

They wandered a little ways into the field, then sat down amongst the dry, still-tall grasses.

“It’s not so cold down here, out of the wind,” Billy commented. “Either that, or the Scotch is really kicking in.”

“Or maybe it’s the fact you’re wearing two jumpers,” Dom muttered, shivering. But in case he was wrong, he took a large swallow of his liquor.

“You really are delicate tonight, aren’t you?” Billy avoided the half-hearted swipe aimed at him, then shifted closer. He unzipped his outer sweater, pulled his arms out, and held one edge out to Dom. “Budge up, then.”

Dom budged, moving so they were sitting pressed together from hip to knee, and pulled the sweater so it at least covered his back. “We’re going to stretch it all to hell,” he warned.

“Oh well. Keeping wee Dom from hypothermia is more important.”

“Wanker,” Dom snorted.

“But you love me anyway.”

“You wish.”

They were both silent for a moment, each taking a sip of their drinks at the same time.

“Billy?”

“Yeah Dom?”

“What’s got you distracted?”

“What do you mean?” Billy was a bit lost.

“You. This week. What’s distracting you?”

“Oh.”

Once again, Dom remained silent so Billy could gather his thoughts. After the Scotch, it took a little longer.

“Well, I—I feel a little silly saying this,” he admitted sheepishly, “But I’m—I’m a bit…homesick.”

“Why would that make you feel silly?” Dom asked, surprised. “I think it would be odd if you weren’t.”

“Are _you_?”

“All the time!” he exclaimed, then amended it to, “Well, not _all_ the time. Sometimes we’re too busy—and sometimes I’m just having too much fun to miss anyone. When it’s you and me.”

“Yeah,” Billy agreed quietly. “It’s not so bad when it’s you and me.” He took a drink, staring straight ahead. “Do you ever feel lonely, Dom?”

Dom thought about it for a minute. “Yeah. I suppose I do. But not with you around, Bills. What about you? Have you been lonely this week, is that part of it?”

Billy nodded.

“Even with me around?”

Billy nodded.

Dom put his arm across Billy’s shoulders under the sweater. “Poor Bills,” he said quietly, and left it at that.

 

 

A little while later Billy downed the last of his liquor, shook the sweater off, and flopped back to lay full-length in the grass. Staring up at the sky, he sighed deeply.

“What are you thinking?” Dom asked.

It took him a minute to answer, but he eventually said, “This isn’t like me, Dom.”

“What isn’t?”

“All of it. The worrying, the trouble sleeping, being distracted from my job. Doing my nut tonight over my ring. I mean, I cried when I had it _back_. What the hell was that?”

“It was relief. It was a sudden drop in adrenaline. It was you being tired. Don’t fret over it, Billy,” Dom said reassuringly.

“But this is stupid. There’s no real reason behind any of it. I feel like I’m going mad.” He sounded more annoyed than truly worried.

Dom pulled the sweater from his shoulders and laid back beside Billy, then tossed the hoodie over both their chests. “I wish I knew what to say, Billy, but I don’t know how to make you feel better,” he said honestly.

“Don’t try and make me feel better. Help me fucking figure this out,” Billy insisted. “I mean, it’s got to stop. There must be a way to fix it, right? There has to have been something that started it, so I just need to figure out what and then I can fix it.”

Dom hesitated, thinking there was more to it than that. “We can try and figure it out if you want. Are you sure when we’re half-pissed is the best time, though?”

“If you can ask that, you’re not pissed _enough_ ,” Billy snorted. “It’s less humiliating this way. We should have brought the bottle.”

Dom ignored that. “So…when did you start having trouble sleeping?”

“I’m not sure.”

“All right. When did you start feeling homesick—more so than usual?”

“I—a while ago…”

Dom tried one more time.

“And the distractedness?”

“Is that a word?”

“Billy!”

“I don’t know, Dom!” he groaned. “I can’t give you dates and times!”

Dom sighed. “You’re right. I haven’t had enough to drink for this.”

“Oh, forget it,” Billy groused.

“No. We’ll try this a different way,” Dom said determinedly. “Did you feel lonely _today_?”

Caught off-guard, Billy breathed in sharply, pushed a fist up under his ribs as if to fill a space there.

Dom saw the motion out of the corner of his eye. He knew that feeling himself, that hollowness not in the pit of his stomach but at the top where it swelled up under his sternum until he thought he’d suffocate. He turned his head to look at Billy, saw his eyes screwed shut, his brows drawn together. He rolled on his side and put his arm across Billy, trapping his fist where it was, hugging him so tightly he pulled him even closer. Dom leaned his forehead against the side of Billy’s head.

“Dom, don’t—“ Billy muttered.

“Bills. You’ll be all right, I promise. I know you’re lonely, but I promise you you’re not alone.”

“Stop it—“

“You’re surrounded by people who love you, Bills.”

“No, I’m not. Get off me,” he said raggedly.

“Billy, how can you say that?” Dom softly protested.

“I’m surrounded by people who like Billy Boyd, not people who love _me_. And that’s fine, but let’s not pretend it’s something it’s not,” he said bitterly. “Dom, let go of me.”

“No. I’m not letting go of you tonight, Bills. And maybe not tomorrow, either. Not until this—“ he lifted his arm and put his hand over Billy’s fist, “—is gone. Or at least better.”

“Dom—“

“Shut up, Bills.” He put his arm back across Billy’s chest and tightened his grip.

“Would you just—“

“No. Shut it.”

“But—“

“Billy,” Dom said firmly. “Stop fighting. You are surrounded by someone who loves you.”

That stopped whatever Billy had been about to say. He closed his mouth, leaned his head against Dom’s, and let himself be held.

Dom was surprised at himself—both at what he’d said, and the strength and fierce protectiveness with which he’d said it. It was a little disconcerting to discover he truly meant it—he wasn’t planning on letting Billy go tonight, figuratively _or_ literally. He wondered about that, but then decided with liquor in his bloodstream and Billy at his side, he was probably not at his most logical. Instead, he closed his eyes, pressed his nose into Billy’s cheek and hummed softly against his skin.

 

 

Some time later, Billy quietly said, “Let’s go back. You’re shivering.”

“I think the ground is damp,” Dom mused. “My side feels wet.”

“Yeah. My arse is wet.”

“You know what else I’ve realized, Billy?”

“What’s that, Dom?”

“There are no stars tonight,” he said sadly.

Billy smiled a little. “No, there aren’t. I guess it’s cloudy.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see your stars.”

“It’s all right. I’ll see them another night.”

“Can I see them with you?”

“If you want to.”

“Okay.” Dom sat up, then climbed to his feet, holding his hand out to Billy to help him up. They picked up their empty glasses and started walking.

Billy put an arm around Dom’s waist for support over the uneven ground, and to lend a bit of warmth if he could—he could hear Dom’s teeth chattering.

Dom laid his arm over Billy’s shoulders. He’d said he wasn’t letting go tonight, and he’d meant it. And it felt so natural, this easy closeness. They’d already had their picture in the paper, in magazines, with their arms slung round each other, and Dom hoped there’d be a lot more. Pictures, he amended to himself. A lot more pictures.

When they got back to the trailer, Billy took one look at Dom in the light and ordered him to change out of his damp clothes into dry shorts and tee, while he put the kettle on. “Your lips are fucking _blue_ , Dom,” he insisted, “So move it.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll change too. And get yourself a blanket off the bed.”

“But I just made it!”

“You need a blanket.”

“Well, how about we sit _in_ the bed,” he suggested, wheedling. “Bring the bottle with.”

“Fine, whatever—just go change.” He busied himself getting cups and spoons and the little plastic tub of sugar from the cupboard over the sink.

Dom got spare clothes out of his cupboard, laid them on the bed, and began to undress, stripping off his jeans first. It wasn’t until he clumsily fumbled with the button that he realized just how cold he was—his hands were trembling violently. As quickly as he could, he pulled off all his damp clothes and yanked on the fresh shorts and tee, then fairly dove under the covers on the bed. He curled up tight, completely covered by the blankets. He could hear Billy moving around, heard a spoon clink against a china mug, heard the sound of Billy’s zipper as he changed damp clothes for dry as well. Dom felt a welcome wave of contentment at the intimate sounds of domesticity—even if it was only temporary. He wished he could pass a bit of that comforting feeling to Billy. “Hey Bills?” he called, loudly enough for Billy to hear through the muffling blankets.

“Yeah?”

“We should share a flat.”

“We should what?”

“Share a flat.”

“Why?”

Dom hesitated, not sure how to answer that without it perhaps sounding a little odd to Billy. “We just should.”

“We’re all over the bloody map with the filming these days,” Billy sounded amused. “I think moving now would be rather pointless, wouldn’t it?”

“That was far too rational an answer,” Dom complained.

“Maybe I should have another drink, then.”

“I think you’d better,” he agreed. “And as long as you’re pouring…”

Billy chuckled. “I’m one step ahead of you. Sit up.”

Dom scrambled up to the head of the bed, reappearing from under the blankets, moving over against the wall.

Billy laughed. “Nice hair.”

Dom reached up. After crawling around under the covers, his hair was standing on end, every which way. Grinning, he flattened it down. “What, you don’t like my new look?”

“Never said that, did I?” Billy held out a mug. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He took it gingerly. “What’s in it? Just Scotch and hot water?”

“And a bit of sugar. It ought to warm you up.”

“Good. I feel cold right down to my bones.”

“We shouldn’t have stayed outside so long,” Billy said regretfully, as he carefully eased his way into the bed, holding his own mug aloft. Dom lifted the covers for him a bit. “Thanks. Sorry I kept you out there. If you like that, I’ll make you another.” He gestured to Dom’s mug.

He took a sip. “It’s good. I’m sure the Scotch alone will do the trick, though. Did you bring the bottle?”

Billy chuckled. “Yes, Dom, I brought the bottle.”

“Good. Because if I don’t warm up soon, I’m going to climb onto your lap and suck all the heat out of you.” Dom suddenly realized that didn’t perhaps sound right. “I mean—I didn’t—“

“It’s all right, Dom,” Billy said quietly, oddly enough almost sounding defeated. “I know what you meant. Like a cat, right? They seek out the warmest spot, which is usually your lap when you’re wearing dark trousers.”

Dom smiled, relieved. “Yeah. Except I don’t shed as much. I used to do that to my dad, did I ever tell you that?” He blew on the steaming surface of his drink, then took a careful swallow.

“What, shed on him?”

Dom casually put his foot against Billy’s leg.

“Augh! Jesus, Dom!” Billy nearly spilled his drink as he jumped. “Fuck, you really are a block of ice, aren’t you?”

“That’ll teach you to mock me,” he said loftily. “For your information, I used to climb onto my dad’s lap when I was a young sprog. I’d burrow into him and he’d hold my toes, because they were always coldest.”

“You don’t say.”

“Don’t suppose you’d hold my toes for me, would you?” he asked hopefully.

“I don’t think so, Dom. But if—no. Never mind.”

“What?”

Billy shook his head, sipped his drink.

“Come on, Billy, what?”

“No. I’m not drunk enough for that.”

“For what?”

“I doubt there’s enough left in the bottle to get me drunk enough to even tell you.”

Dom thought back. “No toes. ‘But if’…if I climb onto your lap?”

“Dom, drop it. Please.”

“Fine. For now.” A sudden thought struck him. “You do know that I know you’re gay, right?”

“Of course you do,” he said stiffly. “That fact was spread around the entire shoot within about thirty minutes. I’m still getting suspicious looks from a few overly-hetero techies.”

“Does that bother you?” Dom asked, surprised, trying to pull the blankets further up his chest. Billy always seemed perfectly comfortable and easy about his orientation, and in the way he interacted with those around him, no matter what their inclinations.

“Of course it fucking bothers me. My private life is none of their business.”

“No, it’s not,” Dom agreed. “Try not to let them get to you, yeah? Got any more Scotch over there?”

Billy leaned over the edge of the bed and retrieved the bottle from where he’d set it on the floor earlier. “Easier said than done, Dom. You don’t understand.”

Dom took the bottle of whisky and poured a generous amount into his mug, topped up Billy’s out-held one as well. “You’re kidding, right?”

Billy frowned. “Kidding? No. About what?”

“Oh my G—No. No, never mind.”

“Tell me, Dom. Kidding about what?”

“Later, Bills.”

“Why? Not drunk enough?” he asked pointedly, a little sarcastically.

“Oh, I’m drunk enough. I mean—I’m not, but I don’t need to be. Now’s just not the right time. But I promise I’ll tell you later, all right?”

“All right,” Billy said begrudgingly.

Dom scrunched further down into the blankets, sipping at his whisky. “I’ve always been like this. I don’t get cold really easily, but when I do, I have trouble warming up. Remember when we filmed the Gates of Moria? You were freezing, really fucking cold. But I was the one who was still sitting in a hot bath two hours later. I’m hopeless that way. Poor circulation, or something.”

“I remember. I wish I had a dry sweater for you—wait a minute…” Billy climbed out of the bed. “You don’t suppose…?” He walked to the other end of the trailer and lifted the seat on the bench neither he nor Dom had checked earlier. “Thank heaven for well-stocked trailers.” He pulled out two spare blankets.

“You’re a sodding genius,” Dom said with conviction. “I didn’t even think to look in there.”

Billy returned to the bed and climbed back in. He unfolded the blankets and spread them over Dom. Took another look at him, huddled up and shivering still, and quietly said, “Come here, Dom.” He lifted his arm, motioning Dom to move closer.

Dom quickly did, shifting over to sit against Billy’s side, the blankets up to his chin. “Thanks, Bills.”

“Put your feet under my leg.” He put his arm around Dom, on top of the blankets, keeping him bundled up tightly.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure—bloody hell! I don’t know how your toes can be that cold and not fucking drop off. No, leave them. I’ll go numb in a minute.” Billy picked up his mug that he’d set on the shelf and swallowed deeply.

“Oh, that feels good,” Dom sighed happily. “You’re my own personal bed warmer.”

“Glad I could help,” Billy said wryly.

“Between you and the Scotch, I should be warm in no time.”

“Good… Dom?”

“Yeah?” Dom wriggled closer into Billy’s side.

“Will you go over my lines with me tomorrow?”

“Of course. Try not to worry about it tonight, Bills. Tonight is…it doesn’t count. It’s outside of everything else. It’s—this trailer is a refuge, nothing can follow you in here.”

“You’re drunk.”

“That has nothing to do with it!” he protested. “I just—I want you to feel better. I don’t understand. I mean, I understand each thing that’s bothering you—I understand homesickness, loneliness, trouble sleeping, trouble with lines—I get all that. But I don’t get where it’s coming from. So I don’t know how to help.”

“Ah, Dom—you are helping,” Billy muttered. “I didn’t want you to stay, but I’m glad you did.”

“Good. Me too.” Dom drained his mug. “Pass the bottle?”

Billy passed it, making a face. “Not much left.”

“Well, we’d better make the most of it, then.” Dom shared the last of the whisky between their mugs. As Billy returned the empty bottle to the floor beside the bed, Dom took a stiff drink. “Ahh. I’m starting to warm up.”

“Good.” Billy didn’t move away from him, though. He took a long sip from his own mug. “I’m starting to get buzzed again.”

Dom snickered. “About bloody time. You Scots have far too high a tolerance level.”

“Just because we’re not lightweights like the English—“

“Lightweights?” Dom protested. “The Yanks are the bloody lightweights. ‘Lij has two beers and he’s half toasted!”

“He’s also only been legal for what, about two hours?” Billy pointed out.

“Yeah, because no one ever drank under-age.”

“You have a point. Fine, you’re not a lightweight. How _are_ you doing? At least buzzed?”

“Oh, I’m pissed as a newt,” Dom said cheerfully. “Completely sozzled.”

Billy was surprised. “Really? You’re hiding it well.”

“I hide a lot of things well, Billy. BillyBoyd. Billy Boyd, Scotsman at large. Or not so large, as the case may be.”

“Hey! None of that, now!” Billy bristled. “I’ll have you know I’m extraordinarily large. ‘S genetic. Why do you think Scotsmen wear kilts?”

“Thought you just liked wearing skirts. Suspicious, if you ask me.”

“Skirts? _Skirts_? Unbelievable. You’ve just denigrated the manliness of an entire nation.”

“Says the Scot with his arms around another bloke,” Dom grinned.

Billy gave him a shove. “You don’t like it, get out of my bed.”

“ _Your_ bed? Since when? And who said I didn’t like it? I’m quite comfortable, thank you very much.” Dom curled up even closer than he had been before, pulling his now-warm feet out from beneath Billy’s leg and turning towards him, snaking an arm around his waist under the blankets.

“What are you doing, Dom?” Billy sounded exasperated, but the way his arm snugged Dom closer belied his tone.

“Don’t want to get cold again, do I?” Dom said happily, eyes closing in contentment.

Billy swigged back the last of his whisky, put his empty mug on the shelf beside Dom’s. He slouched further down into the bed, not moving his arm from around Dom’s shoulders.

“We’re being very hobbity, you know,” Dom said, turning his face to press his nose against Billy’s chest.

“How do you figure?” Billy leaned his chin on top of Dom’s head, simply because it was there and it was more comfortable to prop his head up. It had nothing to do with the fact that cuddling was comforting, and with Dom it was—

“This is right,” Dom said simply.

“Wh—what?”

“This. You, me, here.”

“Oh. You mean—just hanging out. Not particularly hobbity, is it?”

“No, not just hanging out. You and I, like _this_. There’s something important here, we both know it, and yet we’re taking the piss about drinking and skirts—“

“Kilts.”

“See? Merry and Pippin.”

“You’re drunk.”

“You say that every time I say something that—that touches you, that reaches you,” Dom insisted. “I may not be perfectly coherent, thanks to the Scotch, and I might not have said it without it, but what I’m saying is still true, Bills.”

“Dom—“

“Merry and Pippin say ‘How about a little bite to eat, I’m famished’ when they really mean ‘Oh, dearest cousin, I was horribly afraid you were dead’. They—they speak lightly, but there’s a world of meaning, of emotion behind their words. The only difference is, you and I are pretending that other conversation doesn’t even exist. Maybe it’s time we stopped pretending, Bills. Maybe it’s time to say what we really mean for a change.”

“No.” Billy withdrew as much as he could with Dom draped over his chest. His voice was tight as he said, “I’m an actor. I’m good at pretending.”

“No, you’re not,” Dom said softly. “Not lately, you’re not. And trying is starting to get to you. I think that’s at least part of what’s bothering you. You’re not being honest with anyone, least of all yourself, all you’re doing is playing a role and it’s leaving you hollow inside.” Dom put his hand over Billy’s sternum, over the place he’d pressed his fist to earlier.

Billy pushed his hand away, but let Dom stay curled next to him. “I can’t tell you what I really mean, because I don’t know. I can’t—I don’t have anything in me—“

“That’s not true, Billy,” Dom said hotly, sitting up to look at him. “That’s not fucking true. You have so much in you, you’re the most…complete person I know, and—and—I wish I was more like you.”

Billy stared down at his fingers as they plucked at the blanket. “That’s a stupid thing to wish for, Dom. I’m—no, don’t interrupt,” he said as Dom started to protest again. “I’m glad you’re not more like me, Dom, there’s something so…so free about you. You’re a breath of fresh air when I’m feeling stifled. And I must be drunk to be saying shite like this. Please, Dom—not tonight. I just—I just don’t know what to—I don’t know,” he whispered.

Dom looked at him for a long moment, watching his face. “Okay, Bills,” he finally said, softly, awkwardly patting Billy’s hand. “Not tonight. You’re tired, why don’t we go to sleep? A good solid rest will make you feel a little better.”

“Yeah. I _am_ tired.”

“I know. Go brush your teeth.”

“I don’t have a toothbrush.”

“I do. It’s in my cupboard, and there’s toothpaste in there as well.” Dom smiled at Billy’s hesitation. “It’s just a toothbrush, Bill. Go on.”

Billy nodded, climbing out. He got the toothbrush and paste from Dom’s cubby, a bottle of water from the fridge, and disappeared into the tiny loo.

Dom got up as well, putting the empty mugs in the sink and the empty bottle on the counter, then spread their still-damp clothes over the table and benches. It wasn’t exactly toasty in the trailer, but they should be dry by morning. He noticed the CD player sitting on the counter and plugged it in. Many of their CD’s were over in the makeup trailer, where they usually listened to music, but they all kept a few here—mostly soothing ones to cover outside noise during naps. Dom checked Billy’s cupboard for a CD his sister had sent—Enya. Billy claimed to love it, swore Enya was a linguistic and musical genius. Unfortunately, so he said, her music was so somnolent and dream-like as to knock him out every time he heard more than two songs in a row. Dom hoped it was true.

Just as he hit play and turned the volume low, he heard Billy come out of the washroom. He turned, took the toothpaste, toothbrush, and half-empty bottle of water from Billy’s outstretched hand, smiled as Billy looked at the CD player.

“Enya?” he said, heading back towards the bed. “Good choice. Between that, the Scotch, and you, I should fall asleep in minutes.”

Dom paused on the sill of the loo. “Me?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why I said that either.” He climbed onto the bed and Dom closed the door.

When he came out a few minutes later, he left the toothbrush and toothpaste on the counter. “Can you hear the music back there, Billy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Can you turn the light on above your head? I’ll turn all the lights out up here.” He heard Billy grunt as he reached up, heard a click as the light went on. He turned off the light over the table, the light outside the door, and the one above the sink, and then crawled into bed beside Billy, who was now on the far side.

“All right, Dom?” Billy mumbled, eyes closed.

Dom smiled. “All right, Bills.”

“Hope you don’t mind I took this side,” he said, not moving. “I usually sleep on the right side of the bed.”

“I know.”

A little line creased his forehead. “You do?”

“I remember from when we stayed in that tiny hotel in Gisborne. You picked the right hand side.”

“That was…like, ten months ago. And it was one night. I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I remember everything important about you, Billy,” he said simply.

Billy opened his mouth, then closed it again without making a sound.

Dom smiled. “I’ll get the light, shall I?” He reached up and flicked it off. They lay quietly for a few minutes, listening to Enya sing of blue waters and exotic places.

“How are you doing, Billy?” he whispered.

“Good.”

“You almost ready to sleep?”

“Not quite. Getting there.”

“Anything I can do?”

“You could—would you talk to me?” he asked softly, a little embarrassed.

“Sure. About what?”

“Anything. Just—talk.”

“Okay. Roll over.” Dom shifted closer to Billy as he rolled to face the end wall of the trailer. Dom put his arm up, rested it on Billy’s, and began smoothing his hair. “Focus on that while I talk. Good, yeah?”

“Mmm,” Billy mumbled. “Yeah.”

“Good. Did I ever tell you about the time Dad took Matt and I to see Bayern Munich play?”

“No, you didn’t,” Billy smiled in the dark.

“It was about a year before we left Germany, so I was about ten. We drove for, like, four hours to the Olympic Stadium in Munich, where they play, and it was the biggest crowd I’d ever seen before. Dad was paranoid about losing me, I used to be easily distracted—“

“Used to be?” Billy murmured with a little chuckle deep in his chest.

“Shut it, you.” He ruffled Billy’s hair, then went back to stroking it. He lowered his voice, softened it. “One of the brass on the base that Dad was friends with got us the tickets, the seats were fantastic, right behind the goal, which I thought was the most exciting spot to be. We bought sausages, Dad had a beer. He let us each have a couple sips. Mum would have gone mad if she’d known.”

“Why? Just a sip,” Billy mumbled.

“Ah, but it could have started us on the slippery slope to ruin,” Dom chuckled quietly. “Now you stop talking. Listen, and relax—and go to sleep. So there was this massive German man on one side of us, and two Canadian blokes on the other—they were entertaining, had no clue what was going on…” Dom continued to spin his story for a good twenty minutes, telling Billy about the crowd, the noise, the game, his own childish excitement and joy and the fun he’d had. He was pretty sure Billy had fallen asleep after about fifteen minutes, but he kept talking just in case, afraid if he stopped too soon it would register in Billy’s brain and wake him up again. But finally he slowly trailed off and fell silent, practically holding his breath, his tired arm stilling, his hand just resting on Billy’s hair.

Billy snuffled and rolled, turning into Dom’s arms, his own falling across Dom’s waist. He tucked his face into the space between Dom’s shoulder and neck, and sighed deeply.

Dom screwed his eyes shut, his gut twisting, and after a moment he wrapped his arms tightly around Billy, hugging him close. It was a long time before he fell asleep.

 

 

Sometime during the night—he had no idea when, he only knew it was late—Dom woke to a body climbing over him. It took a fraction of a second to remember where he was and who was on top of him before he could groggily whisper, “Billy?” But then Billy was out of the bed and Dom rolled over, assuming he was going to the loo. The door didn’t open, though, and no light came on, and the trailer went completely silent. Frowning, mystified, Dom switched on the light above his head, squinting tightly against the sudden light. He peered down the length of the trailer to see Billy sitting upright, perfectly proper, at the table, staring at nothing opposite him. “Billy?” he said again, a little louder this time.

Billy just sat there.

Concerned, Dom climbed out of bed and walked down the trailer to Billy. He stopped at the edge of the table. “Billy? What are you doing?”

There was no response for a full five seconds. Then Billy suddenly—so abruptly it startled Dom, making him jump—said, “Yes, Gran.” He slid out from behind the table, turned to face the door, and loudly called, “Margaret Mary Boyd, get down here! Dinner’s ready!” He walked back to the bed, climbed in under the blankets, and was out like a light.

Dom stood stock-still for a moment, his mouth agape. And then he quietly started to laugh. He returned to bed, turned the light out, and curled up around a deeply-asleep Billy.

 

 

Some time later, Dom was abruptly—and painfully—awakened with a knee in his stomach. Billy was fighting to get free of the blankets before once again crawling over Dom.

“Billy? Where are you going?”

“Shh,” he whispered loudly and messily.

Dom wiped his arm. “Why? What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low.

“Don’t let my Dad hear you—I’ll get in trouble! I have to find it!” He climbed out of the bed.

Dom turned the light on again and sat up. “Find what, Billy?” He suspected he knew the answer, though.

“His ring, I’ve lost his ring. He’s going to be so mad!” He got down on his hands and knees and pressed his cheek to the floor, looking down the aisle.

“It’s all right, Billy,” Dom said gently. “You found it, remember?”

“He’s going to kill me,” he moaned. “Maybe it rolled under the sofa.” He shuffled over to and under the table. “I can’t believe I lost it, I’m such a stupid daftie. I couldn’t fucking organize a piss-up in a brewery.”

Dom stifled a laugh. “Billy—“

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to swear, I’m sorry.” He tried to stand up, but bumped his head on the bottom of the table. “Ow. Who the hell put that there? Oh fuck—shh! He’ll hear!” He backed out from under the table and stood up. He looked around, agitated.

Dom tried again. “Bills, you lost the ring, but you found it again, remember? Come on back to bed.”

“I’ve lost his ring, he’s going to be so upset with me!” he wailed. “Maybe it’s in the kitchen.” He turned and had the door open and was outside before Dom could even move.

“ _Fuck_.” Dom scrambled to his feet and ran to the door. He flipped the outside light on. “Billy? Billy, come back!” It was even colder out than it had been before, and Billy was out in thin shorts, a tee, and bare feet. And he was walking away, not heeding—or seemingly even hearing—Dom bellowing after him.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Dom quickly pulled on his trousers, jumper and shoes, and grabbed Billy’s hoodie and a torch before dashing out the door. He half-walked, half-ran in the direction Billy had disappeared, switching the torch on. “Billy?” he called. “Billy, where the fuck are you?”

“Shh, Dom!” Billy’s voice came from the trees up ahead. “You’ll have the orcs upon us, shouting like that!”

Frustrated and worried, Dom picked his way over, the light from the torch bobbing ahead of him.

“Dom, put your lantern out! You fool, they’ll find us if you’re not more careful!” Billy hissed from just ahead to his left.

Dom took a close look at what was between him and Billy, then shut off the torch. “Billy, come on—“ he said as he made his way over, shoving the torch in his sweater pocket.

“Dom—shush! They’re out there, I heard shouting!” he whispered urgently, grabbing Dom and yanking him close.

“Oomph,” Dom grunted as his shoulder impacted with a tree.

Billy whimpered, and the sound cut deep into Dom’s heart. “The orcs are just over there, they’re going to find us—“ His hand looked small as it clutched at Dom.

Dom quickly wrapped the hoodie around Billy’s shoulders and gave him a bit of a shake. “Wake up, Billy.”

“The Fellowship is broken,” he moaned, agonized, eyes wide and glassy in the faint light coming through the trees from the distant parking lot. “They’ve abandoned us!”

“Billy!” Dom said sharply, raising his voice, gripping the other man’s arms tightly. “Bill, wake up!” He shook him. “Come on, Billy, you’re dreaming.” He could feel Billy shivering, but with cold or fear he couldn’t tell.

“All hope is lost,” he whispered, his voice full of heart-wrenching despair.

“ _Jesus_ , Bills.” Dom took a deep breath, and with an open hand slapped his face. “Wake _up_ , Billy, please!”

Billy took an automatic step back, blinked several times, and then suddenly was scrambling back, stumbling, falling. “What the fuck—where—where—“ he asked, voice shaking, disorientated and panicky.

“Shh, Bills, it’s okay,” Dom said soothingly, kneeling in front of him. “You’re all right.”

“D-Dom? Where the fuck am I?”

“We’re just outside the trailer. Come on, we need to get you inside.” Dom reached to take Billy’s arms, but he shrank away. “It’s okay, Bills—“

“What trailer? What the hell is going on? What happened, Dom?” he begged.

“I’ll tell you everything, Bills, I promise,” Dom said softly. “But please come in with me, before you freeze to death. Come on, it’ll be all right.” He held his hands out and waited until Billy took them, trembling violently. Dom stood, pulling Billy up with him, securing the sweater around his shoulders. Dom pulled the torch out of his pocket and flipped it on, shining it on the ground in front of Billy as they made their way back to the trailer, making sure he didn’t step on anything sharp in his bare feet. He ushered Billy up the cold steel steps and inside, closing and locking the door behind them, flicking off the outside light. It was dim in the trailer, the only light being the small one at the head of the bed. Dom urged Billy down to the bed and sat him on the edge, wrapping one of the blankets tightly around him. Billy tried to curl up, lay down, but Dom prevented him. “In a minute. Your feet are filthy, I’m not letting those in my bed,” he teased gently. He went to the sink, ran the water until it was nice and hot, wet a towel, and carried it to Billy. “Here. Wash your feet.”

Billy took the towel, dutifully began to swipe at the soles of his feet, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. “Dom? What the hell happened? What the fuck was I doing outside?” The apprehension in his voice was plain.

Dom tugged off his shoes, stripped off his jeans. “I think we discovered at least part of your sleeping difficulties, Bill, why you’re tired. You’ve been sleepwalking.”

“Sleepwalking?” he repeated, bewildered. “You’re mad. I don’t sleepwalk.”

“Really?” Dom smiled kindly as he took off his sweater. “Then how’d you get outside?”

“But—I—“ Billy stammered. “If I sleepwalk, how come I always wake up in my bed in my house?”

“Finish your feet,” Dom gently reminded him. “I would guess that so far, at least, you’ve always gone back to bed when you’re done your wandering. You did earlier.”

“Earlier?” Poor Billy was confused, was becoming a little alarmed again. “What do you mean ‘earlier’? What the hell happened earlier?”

“Shh, it’s okay, Bills. Here, let me rinse out that cloth.” He took the towel back to the sink and ran it under the tap again. “You got up, sat at the table like you were waiting for something. Then you said ‘Yes, Gran’, got up, and yelled for your sister.” Dom knelt down in front of Billy. “Give me your foot.” When Billy distractedly lifted one foot, Dom gave it a good scrubbing with the warm damp towel.

“I yelled for Margaret?” he repeated blankly.

“Yup. Margaret Mary Boyd, to be exact. You yelled ‘Get down here! Dinner’s ready!’ and then you crawled right back in bed like nothing had happened.” Dom let that foot down, picked up the other one. “It was kind of funny, actually,” he smiled. He made quick work of the second foot. “There you go. Get in under the blankets and warm up.” He tossed the towel down the trailer onto the counter and climbed into bed himself. He sat propped up on pillows and pulled Billy close. He was briefly resisted, but he just tightened his grip. “You’re cold, and it’s my turn to be bed warmer. It’s all right, Bills.”

Billy relaxed just a bit. “So—so how did I get outside, then?”

Dom told him, beginning with his seemingly youthful self searching for his father’s ring, to his Pippin-ish fear of orcs amongst the trees outside.

“Oh my God,” Billy groaned. “I’m cracking up! I’m fucking losing it, Dom!”

“No, you’re not,” Dom said firmly. “You’re not cracking up, Billy. They’re just dreams—rather vivid ones, it seems, dreams about things that are on your mind, and they’re taking your body along for the ride. But they’re just dreams. I don’t know much about sleepwalking, but I know it can be caused by stress and exhaustion, and God knows you’re feeling both right now.”

“What do I do, Dom? I don’t remember any of this. What if I—what if it keeps happening? Fuck, what if I wander out of my house in the middle of the night?” Billy fretted, tried to sit up.

Dom kept his arms clamped around him. “Shh. Easy, Bills. No, relax, stay here. You’re safe tonight. As for later—I’ve been thinking about that too.“ He rubbed his hand up and down Billy’s arm.

“And?”

“Well, you could lock your doors and windows and hope when you’re at home you just put yourself back to bed.”

“Hope? What kind of—“

“Come on, Bills, take it easy. Look, maybe we’d better leave this until tomorrow—“

“Well, it’s not like I’m going to sleep any more tonight!” he cried.

“Hey, calm down. Shh—that’s it. Of course you’ll sleep tonight—because I’m here to look after you. Nothing is going to happen, even if you do go for another walk, because I’ll watch out for you, okay? But you need to relax, this isn’t going to help.” Dom leaned his cheek on top of Billy’s head, tightened his arms around him, quietly said, “I told you I’m not letting go of you tonight, and I meant it.”

Billy buried his face against Dom’s chest, huddling down into the blankets. “I’m tired, Dom.”

“I know. I know you are, Billy. Do you want to hear the ideas I had?”

“I ‘spose.”

“I think it might help if you talked to Fran. You know how good she is at sorting through things, at finding the really important stuff when everything’s in a mess. Talk to Fran, you know she’ll help.”

“Maybe.”

“Why only maybe?”

“It’s fucking embarrassing, Dom. I’m nearly thirty-two years old, and I’m walking in my sleep like a fucking child,” he mumbled into Dom’s t-shirt.

“Newsflash, Bill. Adults sleepwalk too. And the sooner you sort yourself out, the sooner you can make it stop,” Dom gently pointed out.

“You said ideas plural.”

“I did. But I’d prefer this in conjunction with talking to Fran. I’ll stay with you for a few days, or a couple weeks—however long it takes. And I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“You’d do that?” he whispered.

“Of course I would.”

“Why?”

Dom hesitated.

“Why, Dom?”

“Do you remember earlier tonight when we talked about you being gay? And you said I didn’t understand?”

“Yes. You asked if I was kidding.” There was a frown evident in Billy’s voice. “Are you going to tell me what you meant?”

“I was hoping you’d have figured it out by now,” Dom said quietly. “I actually thought you already knew.”

“Knew what? Dom—are you—are you trying to tell me—“ Billy sat up and stared at Dom, much to that man’s chagrin. “What are you saying, Dom?”

He dropped his eyes. “I meant it when I said I wish I was more like you, Billy. You said I was free, but I’m not, not really. I hide a lot of things well, remember? But I—somehow I thought you knew.”

“Dom—“ Billy’s arm shook off the blankets and his hand reached out to grip Dom’s forearm tightly. “Say it. Plainly.”

“I think I might be—just a little, mind you—maybe—falling in love. With you,” he whispered, barely audible.

Billy stared at him, then turned to weakly sit beside him, their arms just brushing against each other, both facing the foot of the bed.

Dom felt his face burning. He waited, but Billy remained silent. Finally he started to get up. “I’ll sleep on the bench,” he muttered.

Billy’s hand flashed out and grabbed his bicep, pulling him back. “You most certainly will not.” He tugged Dom over to lean on him, put his arms around him, one hand hugging Dom’s head to his chest. “Dom. Answer me now—are you gay?”

“Yes.”

“Does anyone know?”

“Not here.”

“At home?”

Dom nodded. “My family. Some friends.”

He stroked Dom’s hair to take the sting out of his next words. “And you have the nerve to tell me not to let the homophobes get to me?”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“Really? Then why are you hiding? I thought I was your best mate?”

“You are, Billy—God, you know you are. I just…when I came here, I—I didn’t want to get involved with anyone. I didn’t want one of those location romances that never work out and that smear your reputation. So I thought I’d—I’d just, you know, not say anything, not date anyone, not intimidate or frighten or—or attract anyone. No matter which way their cricket bat swung. But then I met you, Bills, and you were so open I nearly told you, but I didn’t want to look like a fool for having kept it under wraps so long, and then I was a little ashamed because I thought I should have had the strength to be who I am, but apparently I don’t. And lately—the last couple months—I thought you knew, I thought you’d figured me out.”

“I didn’t. You hid too well.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Billy.”

“Shh. Don’t be daft, you don’t owe me an apology. It’s your choice, you just did what you thought was best.”

“No, I didn’t. I did what I thought was easiest.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing.” Billy continued to stroke Dom’s hair. “And even though you maybe, might—just a little, mind you—care about me that way, you’d still be willing to stay with me every night on the off-chance I sleepwalk?”

“Of course,” Dom answered immediately. “You’re my best mate, I want to be sure you’re all right.” He thought he felt a light pressure on the top of his head, wondered if Billy had just kissed him. “Is there—“ he whispered, “—is there any possibility, at all—that you might feel, you know, the same? Or might come to? It—it seemed like it earlier. But if not, just say the word, I’ll stop bothering you, you’ll never hear a word on the subject again.”

“Oh, Dom,” Billy sighed, sounding unhappy. “You’re not bothering me. You never bother me. But I’m—I’m not entirely sure how to answer you. I’m—a little confused now. I just found out you were gay, that you care for me, five minutes ago. I thought you were straight. I—I need some time to—to take this in, to see how I really feel about it all. But I need to—I need to…”

“Sort everything else out first. I understand, Bills. You can’t figure this out until you’re feeling better.” Dom tightened his arm around Billy’s waist.

“Can you—will you wait, Dom? Can you be patient with me?”

“Of course I will. But will you quit keeping it all to yourself, Bills? Please? And maybe try some sleeping pills or something? I bet with some good, unbroken sleep, everything will be easier to deal with.”

Billy made a face. “Talk to Fran, huh?”

“Can you see Fran doing anything but helping you?” Dom asked gently.

“No. No, I can’t. All right, I’ll talk to her Monday.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Dom pressed his forehead against Billy’s chest. “Have you thought about having Margaret come visit?”

“Yeah. She can’t right now. But hopefully soon.”

“Good.”

“Dom?”

“Yeah, Bills?”

He rested his chin on the top of Dom’s head. “Will you stay with me for a few days? Just in case?”

“You know I will. See what happens when we quit being hobbity and say what we really mean?”

“A world of meaning.”

“A world,” Dom whispered fervently.

“I think it’s a possibility,” Billy murmured, nuzzling his nose into Dom’s hair.

Dom turned his face to Billy’s neck.

A few minutes later he felt, as much as heard, Billy yawn. “Lay down, Billy. Get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “’M tired.” He reached up and flipped off the light, then shifted until he was laying flat.

Dom hugged him close. “Sleep well, Bills. There’s nothing to worry about, I won’t let anything happen.”

“Okay. ‘Night, Dom.”

“Goodnight.”

 

 

Billy woke suddenly, with a start, to find himself sitting up in bed, Dom’s hand clamped around his arm, squeezing almost painfully tightly.

“Come on, Billy, wake up now,” he mumbled, giving his arm a sharp shake.

“Dom?”

“Yeah, Bill—you awake?”

“Yeah. I think.”

Dom’s chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You are. Okay now?”

Billy laid down again. “I guess. What was I doing?”

“Going down the pub. To find your mates and get well snockered, apparently.” He yawned widely.

“I’m sorry, Dom—maybe we’d better rethink you staying with me. Otherwise you’re going to wind up as exhausted as I’ve been.” Billy said quietly, miserably.

“It’ll be fine. We just need to quit chatting for an hour afterward,” he smiled, snuggling close to Billy.

He gratefully held Dom tightly. “In other words shut it?”

“In other words, shut it.” Dom gave him a kiss on the temple—nothing he hadn’t done before—laid his head down, and was asleep in moments.

Billy followed not long after.

 

 

The next time Billy woke, it was light in the trailer, despite the fact that at some point all the curtains on the windows had been drawn. He stretched, and wondering where Dom was, shifted until he could see down the length of the trailer. He saw him seated at the table at the other end, pen in hand, scribbling away. Pitching his morning-gruff voice just loud enough to be heard, Billy asked, “What time is it?”

Dom looked up, smiled. “Hey, you.” He glanced at his watch. “Ten to twelve.” His smile widened into a grin. “Told you I could be quiet.”

Billy chuckled, flopped back onto the bed. “Noon. Who’d have thought?”

“How do you feel?”

“Not bad. I have no idea how much sleep I actually got.”

Dom said, “As close as I can figure, about seven and a half hours, all told.”

“Really?” he frowned. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Well, it was rather broken, for one thing. And it’ll take you a while to catch up. But you will. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Billy lifted his head. “We have tea?”

Dom got to his feet, turned the gas on under the kettle. “No milk, though.”

“I don’t care. I thought I was going to have to go without.” Billy climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom. When he came out, Dom had his clothes waiting for him. He dressed, thankfully pulling on his socks. The sun was out, warming the trailer up nicely, but the floors were still cold.

Dom handed him his tea. “Go sit on the steps for a few minutes. It’s lovely out—and it’s so quiet around here today.”

“You coming?”

“I will in a bit—go on.”

Billy went outside and sat on the steps. He was half in the sun, and it felt warm and tranquil. He breathed the fresh air deeply, sipped his tea, listened to the birds in the trees opposite. All of it, combined with the knowledge that just on the other side of the door was someone who truly did love him as a mate—and maybe, just a little mind you—more, and was willing to help him navigate this little obstacle course he’d gotten himself mired in—all of that combined left him feeling more optimistic than he had for several weeks now. And that hollow feeling under his ribs—well, it wasn’t entirely gone yet, but it was better.

Dom gave Billy a few minutes to enjoy the peace and quiet outside, while he finished up what he was writing in his journal. He didn’t write in it every day, but when something really important happened, either good or bad, he liked to get his feelings down. Sometimes doing so helped clarify things in his mind. He flipped back through the six closely-spaced pages he’d spent two hours writing, and smiled. Important, indeed.

After tucking the journal back into his cupboard, Dom opened the outside door. He left it open, sat in the doorway, his feet on either side of Billy’s arse two steps down. When Billy twisted his head back and to the side to look up at him and smile, Dom saw that many of the shadows of the past couple weeks were gone—at least for the moment, anyway. And Dom was so delighted, the only thing he could do was beam back at him, eyes alight.

Billy turned to face forwards again. After a minute, he leaned his head against the inside of Dom’s knee, and they sat like that in silence for some time.

 

 

Finally Dom shifted, gave one of Billy’s shoulders a squeeze, and said, “We should go soon.”

Billy sighed. “Do we have to?”

“’Fraid so. We need to stop by my place so I can grab my kit for the next few days. I also need to shower. And then we have lines to run,” Dom reminded him.

“Shite. Yeah, all right.” But he didn’t move.

Dom gave him a few more minutes, then jiggled his knee, making Billy’s head bounce a little.

“Yeah, yeah,” Billy grumbled good-naturedly. He got to his feet, stretched. “Fellow relaxes for the first time in a week and you want to hustle him out.”

Dom wasn’t sure just how much of a joke that was. “I’m sorry—we can stay a _bit_ longer, if you want…”

“No,” Billy waved off the suggestion. “You’re right, we should go. It’s just—it sort of does feel like nothing can follow me here, you know? But I think part of that is you. And I’m taking you with me, aren’t I?” He didn’t look at Dom as he said it.

“Yes. You are,” Dom answered quietly, reassuringly.

“Right. Let’s be off, then.”

 

 

It was late afternoon before they finally reached Billy’s house. After leaving the trailer, they had stopped for food, and after eating they decided to do a bit of shopping to re-stock the trailer with essentials. At Dom’s place, Billy flaked out on the sofa with the remote while Dom showered and packed up a few things, and Billy even managed a short nap. He awoke to see Dom sitting on the floor in front of him—as he himself was taking up the entire sofa—watching a local cable channel that normally they mocked mercilessly.

“Dom?” His voice came out gruff.

Dom turned to look at him, saw his red, gritty eyes, kindly said, “Go back to sleep, Bills.”

“No.” Billy awkwardly sat up. “If I sleep more now, I’ll have trouble tonight. Let’s go. I need to work on my lines.”

“All right,” Dom said equably. “Let me drive, though, yeah?”

“Yeah. All right.”

When they arrived at his place, the first thing Billy did was shower, and he felt refreshed enough afterwards that the first twenty minutes of running lines went remarkably well. But as he began to tire again, to get distracted again, he started dropping more and more lines until, frustrated, he chucked his script across the living room.

“Fuck!” he shouted, angry with himself. “I’m shite. I’m bloody well shite!” He stormed out of the room.

Dom stayed where he was, unsure what to do. He didn’t have a lot of experience dealing with Billy when he was angry, and he felt woefully inadequate for the situation.

But just as Dom was starting to feel he really _had_ to do something, Billy returned, quietly picked up his script, and they started over.

Dom watched a little more closely on the next few run-throughs, though, and as soon as he saw Billy getting seriously frustrated, he halted them. “You’re doing great, Billy,” he assured the pacing man.

“No, I’m not, actually,” he ground out.

“You have the next two scenes dead cold,” Dom pointed out. “That’s at least two days filming. There’s not much point in going any further, because you know the script is going to change anyway.”

Billy dropped heavily into the armchair in the corner of the room, abandoning his script on the end table beside him. “I shouldn’t be having this much trouble,” he grumbled.

Dom sat forward, his elbows on his knees. “No, you shouldn’t. But it’s only temporary, and getting worked up about it is only going to make everything worse, Billy.”

He scrubbed his palms over his face. “Maybe you’re right.”

Dom grinned. “Don’t sound so surprised. It’s been known to happen.”

Billy snorted, then sighed. “Thank God at least one of us is thinking rationally.”

Dom cocked his head. “Can I have that in writing? ‘Cos I think that’s the first time anyone’s said _I_ was the rational one.”

“Just goes to show how sleep deprived I really am.” He gave Dom a little smile, then said more seriously, “You know I appreciate this, right?”

“I know. You know what you need? Some fresh air. Let’s go for a drive,” he suggested impulsively.

“No, I think I’d rather stay—“

“What, sit around and brood over everything? Not a chance.” He leapt to his feet, grabbed Billy’s arm and hauled him up. “Come on, it’ll be good. I’ll even buy you an ice.”

“This from the man who nearly froze to death last night?” Billy reluctantly allowed himself to be ushered to the door.

“True.” Dom opened the closet and pulled out two jackets, handing one to Billy. “Mind if I borrow this? I’ll buy you a cocoa, then. Gimme your keys.”

“Demanding, aren’t you? And I won’t even comment on ‘gimme’.” He handed Dom his keyring, watched as Dom locked the house behind them. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Don’t know yet,” Dom said airily as they walked to Billy’s car. “I might accept suggestions…”

“Well, there _is_ somewhere I’d really like to go.”

“Yeah? Where’s that?” Dom asked as he unlocked Billy’s door before continuing around to the driver’s side.

Billy leaned his forehead on the car. “To sleep.”

“Get in,” Dom said heartlessly, grinning. Once they were in the car and buckling up, he explained, “It’s six o’clock, Bills. If you go to sleep now, you’ll be up at two. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get to bed at a decent time.”

“Why am I letting you order me about like this?”

“Because you want someone to take over for a while,” Dom said truthfully, easily. “And I don’t mind.”

Billy had no answer to that. He turned his head to look out the window at the setting sun.

 

 

Dom checked the other way before pulling back out onto the road. Billy held the tray with their hot chocolates carefully on his lap.

“Where are we going?” he asked again, unconsciously saying the familiar words in Pippin’s voice.

Dom smiled. “Don’t know yet.”

“Then how will you know when we get there?”

“I won’t.”

Billy raised an eyebrow. “What if you drive right past it?”

“Then we pass it and go on to the next one.”

“The next one what?”

Dom’s smile widened as he downshifted. “Don’t know yet.”

 

 

Half an hour, miles of coastline, and much idle chatter later, Billy suddenly swiveled his head, looking at something they were passing. He watched as it fell behind them, craning his neck to see as long as he could.

Dom looked back, had an idea what Billy had been seeing in the growing darkness, and although he wasn’t completely certain, he braked the car to a halt. Checking the road was empty both in front and behind, he did a quick u-turn and began slowly driving back the way they had come.

“What are you doing?” Billy asked, drinking the last of his cocoa and putting the empty cup on the floor.

“We’re here.” Dom stopped the car at the approximate spot Billy had first turned his head, parking on the grass verge opposite the rocky crags overlooking the coast.

“We’re where?”

“Don’t know. But this is it.”

“How did you know?” Billy frowned.

“I didn’t. You did. Come on.” Dom turned on the four-way flashers, and climbed out of the car.

Seeing him cross the road and start clambering over the first clump of rocks on the other side, Billy quickly followed. “Dom, be careful!” he called. “You can’t see for shite in the dark!” But even as he said it, Dom gave a short cry and disappeared from sight.

“ _Fuck_. Dom!” Billy raced over, started climbing over rocks. “Dom!”

“Billy,” he called back, his voice sounding strange.

Billy saw Dom, then, laying face down on a grassy plateau several feet below. He leapt down, threw himself to his knees on the springy grass with a thump. “Dom—are you hurt? Christ—please tell me you’re all right,” he begged.

Dom rolled over with a gasping noise, giving Billy a moment of pure dread, until he realized Dom was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

Billy cuffed him. “You fucker—“

Dom raised an arm in defense, now howling with laughter. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” he wheezed.

“Then what the hell are you laughing at?” Billy demanded, a little annoyed. “You gave me a fright, you twat.”

“I’m sorry, Bills.” He struggled to sit up, chuckling breathlessly. “Oh God, you should have seen that, man. Agility and grace personified.”

Billy sat back, relaxing a little. “What did you do?”

“I caught my foot on a rock up there,” he gestured above them, then wiped his eyes. “I tried to catch myself, but overbalanced. You should have seen me, Billy. I did this fantastic triple-twisting, double back-over-half-pike-layout-Gainer thing that would have drawn bloody raves at the Olympics.”

“Is that its technical name?” Billy smiled.

Dom brushed dirt off his chest. “Absolutely. It’s in the handbook.”

“The Olympic handbook?”

“Where else?”

“Wasn’t aware there was one,” Billy said with a straight face. “What discipline?”

“New Zealand rock gymnastics, of course. A very dangerous and very elite sport.”

“So I should imagine,” Billy chuckled.

Dom cracked not even a smile. “I’ll have you know I’m the record holder.”

“No doubt. It’s not hard to be the record holder when you’re the only competitor. You sure you didn’t hurt yourself?”

“I’m sure—don’t you see? I landed on my feet, Bills! It was brilliant!” Dom exclaimed, eyes and teeth flashing in the dark as he suddenly grinned.

“You’re having me on.”

“I’m not! I totally aced it—no deductions for the landing.”

Billy leaned back on his palms, smiling. “Really? So you were just…what? Laying down for a nap?”

“No,” Dom laughed. “That was the funny part. I was so chuffed I did a little victory dance, tripped over my own two feet, and fell flat on my face.”

Billy laughed loudly, delightedly, dropped an arm companionably across Dom’s shoulders. “You,” he chuckled fondly, “Are the biggest bloody klutz I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

“I know,” Dom grinned. “I’ve turned it into an art form.”

“An artist _and_ an athlete. Such talent.” Still smiling, Billy looked out at the view before them.

“Someday you’ll boast you knew me when.”

“Yeah, when you still had all your limbs.” He let go of Dom to get to his feet and walk to the edge of the plateau. He stood there, arms folded against his chest, looking at the rocks and water below him in the light of the low moon rising off to his left.

Dom relaxed back on his elbows for a few minutes, leaving Billy to his thoughts. When Billy finally sat on one of the rocks, propping his arms on his knees, Dom got up and joined him. The last thing he wanted was to freeze his arse off on the damp ground again. He sat down beside Billy, keeping quiet both because he suspected that was what Billy wanted, but also because he found he really didn’t know what to say.

Finally Billy broke the silence. Still watching the water, not moving an inch, he quietly said, “It looks like home.”

After a moment, Dom asked, “Where?”

“A place some mates and I used to go. Up the coast north of the city.”

“What did you go for?”

One corner of his mouth quirked. “Nothing. Everything.”

“Determined to remain a mystery, are we?” Dom teased.

Billy smiled. “No. There really was no reason for us to go there. We just found it one time and lolled about on the little beach between two cliffs. Made a bonfire, got pished, had a great night, and it turned into a summer tradition. Couple times every summer, every year for—oh, five or six years.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“Just…life. One bloke moved. One got married, had two babies in two and a half years. One just stopped coming. I missed an entire summer when I was working in the theatre up in St. Andrews and boarded up there.”

The longing in his voice was plain, although he probably didn’t realize it. Dom casually asked, “We just had an entire month off. Why didn’t you fly home for a visit?”

“And give up the chance to see Australia and Thailand? A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity because I’m a little homesick?” Billy snorted.

“It won’t be a once-in- _your_ -lifetime opportunity, Bills,” he said quietly, sincerely, even a tiny bit sadly. “Once the world meets you…you’ll be able to go anywhere you want. This is—this is a start for you.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Billy scoffed.

“Nothing. Just finally learning to channel my inner Merry.”

“What?”

“Never mind. So why didn’t you have a short holiday and then go home?” Dom leaned to the side a little until their shoulders rubbed. “It would have been tiring, but you could have gone for a week or two.”

Billy didn’t answer, just looked down at his hands dangling between his knees.

“Billy? Why didn’t you?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

He sighed, made the decision to just say it, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what his reason _really_ meant. “Because I wanted to—to spend the holiday with you.”

Dom softly said, “I would have gone with you if you’d asked.”

Billy looked up at him then, but couldn’t see his expression in the darkness, only the moon reflecting from his eyes. “You would have?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence again, leaning against each other.

 

 

Some time later, the moon higher and brighter in the sky, Dom said, “We should go soon. Get you home so you can go to sleep. Have you had long enough here?”

Billy nodded, then said, “Yeah. Yeah, this was—good. Like being on that beach at home, except we didn’t have anything to drink. And we weren’t quite so rowdy. And we’re not actually on the beach. And—“

“Yeah,” Dom smiled. “Just like home.”

“Yeah.”

“You could have a drink when we get back, if you have anything in the house.”

“I think I’ll do that. Okay, let’s get going,” Billy said, getting to his feet. He turned around and looked behind them, looking up at the ledge he’d jumped off to get to Dom earlier. “Of course, now we have to get your clumsy arse back up there.”

Dom waved that little dilemma away. “No problem, mate. You climb up these rocks over here, and I’ll follow you.”

“Good plan,” Billy agreed, going over to where Dom suggested, as there was a much easier ascent than trying to haul himself up the ledge. “That way if you fall you won’t take me with you.”

“I can feel the love, the support. Very touching, that is.”

“Wanker.”

“Porridge wog.”

“No need to slur my nationality, you poncy English twat.” Billy began to climb.

“I resent twat.”

“Just follow where I put my hands and feet. And be careful,” Billy chuckled.

They reached the ledge in short order and Billy, first to his feet, held out a hand to Dom to help him up. He kept hold of Dom as he turned and started leading him over the rocks, saying only, “Watch your step.”

Dom couldn’t help a small smile. “I will.” He turned his hand in Billy’s, lacing their fingers. He felt the almost infinitesimal waver in Billy’s step when he did that, and breathed a tiny sigh of relief when Billy didn’t say anything, didn’t pull his hand away, just kept carefully climbing over the rocks. He was inordinately pleased when Billy not only didn’t release his hand after leading him over the last rocky patch, but held onto him as they walked across the grassy verge and the road, only letting him go when they reached the car.

 

 

Back at Billy’s house, they shed their jackets and shoes with relief in the cozy warmth. Billy fetched Dom a beer from the fridge, poured himself a double Scotch. When he returned to the living room, he found Dom sprawled on the sofa, remote in hand, flicking rapidly through the channels. He handed the beer to Dom and sat beside him, sipping his whisky, watching the programs flash past. “Oh, I like that one—“ he started as he spotted something familiar, but it was already three channels past before he even got that much out.

Dom shook his head. “Not a chance. Far too intense, too suspenseful. I want you in bed and asleep within an hour, so we’re looking for something relaxing, something—“

“Boring?” Billy suggested wryly.

“If we have to,” Dom grinned at him. “Oh, here, let’s try this one.” He finally left it on one channel.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, why?”

Billy cringed, looking away from the screen. “It’s _insects_ , Dom. And not even the cute ones. It’s insects with long, hairy legs. You want me to have nightmares about those crawling all over me?”

Dom looked so crestfallen as he changed the channel that Billy nearly laughed.

“Tell you what, Dom, why don’t you just put on the sports channel? We’ll watch the fixtures, the weekend highlights, I’ll finish my Scotch, and then I’ll go to bed.”

“Sure,” Dom agreed. “Maybe they’ll have highlights from Man U’s game yesterday.” He flipped to the sports network.

“You’ll be devastated if they’ve lost, won’t you?”

“Inconsolable,” Dom solemnly affirmed.

Billy pushed aside thoughts of consoling him.

 

 

Twenty minutes later Billy yawned, and Dom immediately said, “Go get ready for bed.”

Billy was about to protest being ordered about when he yawned again, so widely his jaw popped. He gave up the fight as a lost cause and nodded. A sudden thought struck him. “Where—um—I mean… It’s—it’s a king-size bed, if you want,” he finally said lamely.

“I’d prefer that,” Dom admitted, looking up him as he stood. “But the couch would be fine if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“If the point of you being here is to keep me from sleepwalking—well, I could walk right past the sofa and you’d never know,” he pointed out.

“Decision made, then. Just don’t hog all the blankets like you did last night,” Dom grinned.

Billy flipped him two fingers as he walked out of the room.

 

 

Ten minutes later, Billy crawled into the right side of his bed, stretched, and sighed wearily. It was a relief to be tired and in bed early, and while the knowledge of his sleepwalking was a new worry—and a big one—knowing Dom was keeping an eye on him was truly comforting. Of course, Dom himself was another kettle of fish entirely. No, that wasn’t right. Another barrel of monkeys, maybe? He smiled, eyes closed. Aye, that was nearer the mark. Nothing remotely fish-like about Dom.

Billy shifted, kicking at the covers. He tucked the pillow under his neck, laid flat on his back, folded his hands on his chest, and finally let himself think about Dom. _Really_ think about him.

Dom was—as he kept saying— _maybe_ falling in love with Billy.

How the bloody hell had he missed it?

Okay, so he’d thought Dom was straight, and perhaps that altered his perceptions a bit. Still—there must have been signs. There were _always_ signs. He started looking back, going over conversations in his head, trying to spot the moments when an odd look, a strange comment should have clued him in, should have raised some alerts. And that was part of the trouble, wasn’t it? This was Dom—there were always odd looks and strange comments, so how was he to pick the meaningful few out of the plethora he’d been presented with? Dom really _was_ good at hiding. Almost as good as Billy.

Billy shied away from that thought, rolling over and thumping his shoulder into the mattress with some force. He wasn’t hiding. Everyone knew he was gay. He wasn’t hiding from anything, dammit.

He heard Dom sneeze out in the living room, and automatically called out, “Bless you!”

“Thank you,” Dom yelled back. “Now be quiet and go to sleep.”

Billy snorted, but his mind and memory were pulled backwards in time. He remembered being young—no more than eight—and they’d gone on a little holiday as a family, renting a wee cottage by the sea down the coast. His parents, he realized now that he was older, must have saved up for that ten day holiday for a long time, and there had never been another. They had saved, but just run out of time, of course. But that cottage had only had two bedrooms and he and Margaret had shared the larger one, the one with two beds. He remembered giggling with Marg, too loudly at one point, for his father had sternly called from the other room, “Be quiet, both of you, and go to sleep!” But he and Margaret had known they weren’t in trouble, not really, and they’d heard their parents laughing quietly with each other.

Billy sat up abruptly with long-gone laughter echoing in his ears, a hard weight sitting heavily in his chest. He wasn’t going to cry. He was almost thirty-two years old, a grown man for fuck’s sake. He was _not going to cry_.

He got up and stalked out to the living room. Picking up his Scotch glass from where it still sat on the coffee table, he ignored the pointed look Dom shot at him.

“What are you doing up?”

“I’m not a fucking child, Dom,” he snapped, then went to the kitchen and poured himself a good two fingers of whisky.

Dom flinched, blinked. Where the hell had _that_ come from? He waited until Billy returned and nearly threw himself onto the sofa, taking care only that he not slosh his drink. He watched as Billy took a deep swallow. “You want to tell me what that was, then?”

“What?” he asked shortly.

“Why the hell did you just bite my bloody head off? I only asked why you were up.”

Billy muttered, “Sorry. You sounded like someone else, and it was the exact wrong moment. I can’t sleep.” He took another drink.

“Wrong moment for what?” Dom asked, bewildered.

“To sound like my Dad.”

Dom released a short puff of breath. “Damn. Sorry, Bills.”

“You weren’t to know.”

“Why can’t you sleep?” Dom asked quietly, looking away from Billy, looking instead at the TV screen.

“Can’t stop thinking. Can’t shut my brain off. Can’t fucking stop it from going places I don’t want to go,” he muttered, taking another sip.

“Such as?” Dom asked softly, still staring at the TV, although he couldn’t have said what was on to save his life, he was so focused on Billy’s words, on every little movement he caught out of the corner of his eye.

“Mum and Dad.” He drained his glass, grimacing as he swallowed, then burst out, “I don’t get it, Dom. They’ve been dead for nearly _twenty years_. It’s not like I’m not fucking used to the idea. Why am I thinking about them so much? Why now? Why here, of all places?”

“Is something reminding you of them?”

“Not always.” He dropped his voice again. “But sometimes. My ring. You.”

“Me? I’m sorry, Bills.”

He shook his head. “No, no—“ One corner of his mouth lifted. “When you yelled at me to be quiet and go to sleep, from out here, from a different room. Took me back, it did. Margaret and I got a not-so-serious bollocking from Dad one time for talking when we were supposed to be asleep.”

Dom smiled. “I remember those.”

“Yeah. But—the thing is, Dom—after, Mum and Dad laughed. And—I _heard_ it. Not just in my head, I heard it fucking echo in the room in there,” he explained, his voice pained, frustrated. “Clear as a fucking bell. And I nearly cried again, like a bloody child, and I just don’t know why I suddenly miss them so much. Can you explain it to me?”

“I’d only be guessing, Bills.”

“Then fucking guess, Dom, ‘cos that’s more than I’ve got right now! Christ!” he half-shouted, and if Dom hadn’t quickly reached over and taken the glass from Billy’s hand, he might have hurled it across the room.

“Calm down, Bill,” Dom snapped. “Jesus, the way you’re acting, you’d think there was something horribly wrong with you. So you miss your parents. Why the hell shouldn’t you? So what if it’s been nearly twenty years, that doesn’t mean you can’t miss your mum and dad, you daft cunt! Now shut the hell up and come with me.” He grabbed Billy’s arm and hauled him, speechless, off the sofa and back into the bedroom.

Billy finally found his tongue. “Dom, what the hell—“

“Shut it. Get back into bed,” he ordered, and set about pulling clothes out of his bag.

“Haven’t you been listening? I can’t fucking sleep!”

“You’re not going to,” Dom retorted. “We’re going to talk, so get your sorry arse back in the bed.” He took off his shirt, started stripping off his jeans.

Billy stared. “What are you doing?”

Dom froze, and a subtle flush crept up his neck. “Didn’t we—I thought we agreed I’d stay in here.” He gestured weakly toward the bed. “You know, king-size and all.”

“Oh. Right. I just—I didn’t realize you were going to sleep with me—I mean, coming to bed—I mean—ah, fuck it,” he sighed, shoulders slumping, and he quietly crawled into bed.

Dom chuckled ruefully. “I’m having the same problem. ‘Come to bed with me, Bills’ doesn’t quite sound right, does it?”

Billy looked away as Dom quickly stepped out of his boxers and into the shorts he slept in, surprised and startled by his sudden thought of, ‘Yes, it does.’

Dom pulled on the soft, worn tank top from home that he usually wore every night, and walked to the door. He flipped off the light, then promptly said, “Oh bugger,” into the pitch black.

He could hear the small smile in Billy’s voice as he said, “There’s nothing between you and the bed. Aim over here.”

Dom shuffled over, hands held low in front of him. “Well, keep talking!” he said indignantly.

“That won’t do you much good, I’m on—“

Dom yelped in pain as he barked his shin off the bed frame. “Fuckshitfuckfuckdamn!” he bellowed.

“—the other side of the bed,” Billy finished lamely.

Dom turned and fell onto the bed, gripping his ankle, moaning piteously. “Fucking metal bed frames, shouldn’t fucking be allowed! Bloody fucking cunting hell, I think I broke my leg, Billy, it feels like it’s sawn half off, they’re going to have to amputate my leg, Bills.”

“Whatever will Pete say?” Billy responded mildly.

“Oh, I like that,” he whimpered. “That’s sympathy, that is. I’m going to lose my sodding leg and what do I get? Do I get ‘Oh, my poor Dom, let me help’, or ‘Here, lean on me, there’s a brave lad’, or ‘Can I kiss it better for you, Dom’? No, instead I get ‘Whatever will Pete say?’ There’s love and kindness for you. Thank you so much. It really fucking hurts, Bills, I think I might pass out,” he trailed off weakly.

Billy sighed, climbed out of bed. “You’re not going to pass out, you great whingeing jessie.”

“Whingeing jessie? Very nice. Very nice indeed. Where are you going?” he demanded, hearing Billy walk around the end of the bed.

“To get you an icepack.” Billy was trying extraordinarily hard not to crack a smile, and knew Dom could probably hear that.

“Don’t leave, what if I bleed to death while you’re gone?”

“And _are_ you bleeding, Dom?”

Dom nearly laughed at the tremor in Billy’s voice. “Well—no. But I could start any second!”

“I think I’ll risk it, then.” He left the room.

“There could be a blood clot!” Dom shouted.

“Yeah—in your fucking brain!” Billy yelled back from somewhere down the hall.

Smiling, Dom shifted up on the bed until he was propped on a pillow against the headboard, leaving his legs outside the blankets. He gingerly felt at his shin in the dark, winced at the already-impressive lump he could feel there. Despite his taking the piss with Billy, it did hurt. He saw the dim outline of the door widen, a darker shape enter, the outline narrow again. He immediately started quietly whimpering.

“Give it a rest, Monaghan.” The reluctant grin on Billy’s face was evident in his voice in the dark. He walked directly over to Dom’s side of the bed, stopping beside it. “Where are you?”

“Sitting up,” Dom answered. He pulled his knees up, felt Billy pat the bed, sit when he found that spot empty.

“Which leg?”

“My right.”

Billy reached forward on top of the blanket until he found Dom’s feet, then determined which was his right. He carefully, lightly ran gentle fingers up Dom’s shin until he felt the lump, and whistled softly. “You really did whack it, didn’t you?”

“Told you I did.” Dom suddenly felt a little breathless.

“So you did. All right, here’s the icepack, just—“

“Wait,” Dom interrupted him.

“What?”

Dom hesitated, then whispered, “Will you kiss it better?”

“Will I—“ Billy stopped.

And then incredibly, unbelievably, Dom felt the bed move as Billy shifted back a bit, then leaned toward Dom, leaning down to the spot his fingertips still rested near, his soft dry lips gently, tenderly dropping several light kisses on the swollen bruise.

Dom held his breath.

“Better?” Billy murmured.

“One more?”

Billy’s mouth stroked ever so lightly across Dom’s leg, his lips slightly parted, breath moist on Dom’s skin, the tip of his tongue briefly, barely touching, and at that moment Dom could not remember ever feeling anything so erotic, and he pulled away with a nearly inaudible gasp.

Even though Dom had asked him for the kisses, Billy knew he’d gone just over the line. “I’m sorry, Dom,” he said quietly, sitting back. “That wasn’t fair.”

It took Dom a moment to find his voice, but he finally managed, “That depends.”

“Depends? On what?”

“Did you _want_ to do that?”

Billy was about to automatically answer of course, obviously, since he _did_ it, didn’t he, but he realized Dom didn’t want an automatic answer, and maybe he didn’t either, and he gave it the thought it deserved. He finally, slowly said, “Yeah. I—I think I did.”

Dom whispered, “That’s all right then.” And he wanted to kiss Billy so badly, to feel those lips against his, but he knew without a trace of doubt that it wasn’t the right time. “How about that icepack?” he said instead.

“Dom—“ Billy sounded wretched, and Dom knew he’d been right.

“No, Bills, it’s okay, not tonight. One thing at a time, yeah? Don’t you worry, I can wait. Now may I please have that icepack, you wanker, before my sodding leg falls off?”

Billy handed it to him, held it up for Dom’s hands to grope for and find, let him apply it to the bruise himself because Billy was afraid he’d press too hard and hurt him. “One thing at a time, huh?” he muttered.

“I think that’s best, don’t you?” Dom hissed as the cold seeped into his swollen flesh and made it ache. “Fuck. Remind me to buy you a bedside lamp tomorrow.”

“Sorry,” Billy said absently, distractedly. He got up from the bed and walked around to his own side instead of climbing across.

“What are you thinking, Bills?”

“One thing at a time,” he mumbled, climbing in under the covers. “I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know where to start,” he said miserably. He lay on his side facing away from Dom, tucked up into himself.

Dom’s heart gave a little twist at the helplessness in Billy’s voice, and he knew Billy probably wasn’t even aware how much of his vulnerability he was showing. “Well,” Dom said quietly, “We were going to start with your parents, with my guesses on why you miss them so much.”

“I don’t want to anymore. I can’t, Dom, not tonight, I just can’t talk about them anymore tonight. I can’t.”

“All right. It’s all right, Bills, we don’t have to. Why don’t you squidge up a little closer, I can’t reach you way over there.” He switched the icepack to his left hand and stretched out with his right. “Come on, squidge up so I can reach you.”

“What kind of word is ‘squidge’?” Billy muttered, not turning over but shifting himself back so his spine curved closer to Dom.

Dom also moved toward the centre of the bed until he could reach Billy’s head, even though Billy was curled away from him. “It’s a Dom word,” he said lightly as he threaded his fingers in Billy’s hair. “I’m starting my own dictionary for all the words everyone else forgot.”

“Like squidge?”

“Like squidge,” Dom agreed. “And Billyness. And Billish. I don’t know how it happened, but those two got missed as well. Frightful oversight on someone’s part.” He slowly rubbed his fingertips against Billy’s scalp.

“And what exactly do they mean?” he asked quietly, sounding—or so Dom hoped, anyway—slightly less on edge.

“Well, Billyness is a state of being, isn’t it, in which one embraces the philosophy, the values of Billy. And Billish is like Merry’s ‘treeish’. Acting in a very Billy way.”

“What, fucked up?” he muttered.

“No,” Dom chided, tugging Billy’s hair slightly in a gentle reprimand that he knew would actually feel good. “As a matter of fact it’s the exact opposite. Billyness is about being kind, and thoughtful. Unselfish. Caring more for your friends’ welfare and happiness than your own. It’s about being sweet and loving and strong and piss your pants funny. It’s about having one hell of a work ethic. It’s about being sneaky and devious in the best possible way, and not being afraid to say something that truly needs to be said, good or bad. It’s about loyalty. And when I don’t like the way I’m acting, I try and be more Billish. So that’s why they’re going in the dictionary.”

Billy was silent for several long seconds, and then he rolled over, threw his arm around Dom’s waist, and buried his face against Dom’s hip. “You’re full of shite,” he mumbled.

Dom smiled, rested his hand on the back of Billy’s head. “Often times, yes. But not this time. Are you tired yet, Billy?”

“Unrelentingly,” he whispered, and Dom barely heard it, but barely was enough.

“Oh, Bills—you’re going to be all right, I promise. You’ll get through this. Now come on, let a fellow into bed, will you?” He tossed the icepack where he thought the nightstand was, and heard it hit the floor. “Bugger. Hope I don’t step on that in the morning, that gel would make a mess. That’s it, Billy, shift over a bit.” Dom lifted his feet to push back the covers, then he slid underneath, stretched, and reached for Billy. “Where’d you go?”

“Go to sleep, Dom,” Billy muttered from the far side of the large bed.

“Not on your life Bills, not until I know _you’re_ asleep. God, you move fast for someone who’s so tired. Get your arse back over here.”

“No. Go to sleep, Dom,” he insisted.

“You don’t have to crawl into my pocket, you silly git,” Dom smiled. “Just lay beside me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to help you get to sleep, Billy,” he explained slowly, as if to a particularly stupid child. “And I can’t do that if you’re in the next bloody area code. How’d you rate such a huge bed, anyway? You’re the littlest of all of us.”

“Littlest?” He rolled over to face Dom’s direction. “Fuck you, I am not. Everyone knows Elijah’s smaller than me.”

“Everyone? What everyone? You’re the only one who thinks so.”

Billy sat up. “I am not! My shirt size is bigger than his.”

“Well, you’re carrying a little more around the waist, aren’t you?”

“You absolute twat!” he exclaimed hotly.

“Your feet are smaller,” Dom pointed out gleefully.

“Just because Elijah has freakishly large feet—“

“Bet your hat size is smaller, too.”

“—and a freakishly large head. With freakishly large eyes!” he said triumphantly, as if that settled the matter, leaning over to poke Dom in the arm.

“You’re just jealous because you wish you were as big as he is.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s it exactly,” Billy said scornfully, flopping down to lay on his back. “You’re so full of shite.”

“Yeah,” Dom said comfortably as he rolled over, his arm snaking out to wrap over Billy’s stomach. “But it got you closer.”

Billy paused. “You’re a wanker.”

“Sometimes. But not in your house, I promise.” And before Billy could reply to that, Dom slid his hand up Billy’s chest, ran it lightly over his face, and buried it in Billy’s hair to begin massaging his scalp. “Go to sleep, Billy. Feel my hand in your hair, my fingers on your head. Listen to the sound it makes, let it drown out all your other thoughts. Don’t think anymore, Billy. Don’t think; just feel, and hear, and sleep.”

Billy made a small sound of protest, and desperation, and relief, and then was silent.

Dom couldn’t tell for sure when Billy fell asleep, but when he rolled over to face Dom and his breath whistled and he kneed Dom in the thigh, Dom knew he was out. He closed his own eyes and soon slept, his hand still in Billy’s hair.


	3. Chapter 3

Several hours later, Dom woke suddenly, with a start, certain something was wrong. With no idea what actually woke him, he fumbled for his bedside lamp, remembered he was at Billy’s, and reached beside him, stretched to reach further, but knew as he did so that he was alone. He quickly clambered out of bed and went in search of Billy.

The bathroom was empty, as was the kitchen, thank God. Dom shuddered to think what could happen if Billy dreamed he was chopping vegetables. He went back out into the hall, headed toward the living room, and stopped dead when he saw the front door standing wide open. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! _No_ ,” he whispered, heart pounding. He raced through the door, immediately checked up again feeling almost faint with relief to find Billy sitting down at the end of the porch. He breathed deeply, forcing himself to calm down, went inside and grabbed a throw blanket off the sofa in the living room, before walking out to join Billy, sitting beside him. He spread the blanket over both their laps, thankful it was slightly warmer than the night before. They still wouldn’t last long out here, though.

Dom assumed Billy was sleepwalking, but Billy put one elbow on his knee, resting his chin in his hand, and thanks to the casual posture suddenly Dom wasn’t so sure. Okay, granted, he was out here in nothing but his shorts, but once in a while Billy did odd and irrational things, maybe not as often as Dom did, but he still did them—it was just part of what made him Billy. So Dom hesitated, leaned against Billy to see if he’d speak first, but he didn’t, he just sat there.

“Billy?” he finally asked softly. “What’s wrong?”

It was nearly thirty seconds before Billy said anything. “Why’d he go?” he muttered.

“What? I couldn’t hear you.” Dom leaned forward a bit so he could see Billy’s face better. He watched his lips when eventually he spoke again.

“Why’d he leave me?”

“Why’d who leave you, Bill?” Dom frowned. Was he awake or not?

Billy curled over, forehead on knees, and mumbled something Dom couldn’t quite catch.

“What was that, Billy? Who left you? Come on, if you can’t tell your best mate…”

But there was no answering litany. Instead Billy sat upright again to loudly cry, “Why did Dom leave me, Mum? Why did Dom go?”

“Shh, Billy, don’t yell!” Dom automatically whispered. He had his answer—Billy was definitely still asleep. But why would he be dreaming about Dom leaving him? It didn’t make sense. Not even the kind of dream logic his other sleepwalking episodes had made. Billy kept dreaming about the things he was worrying about, the things that were upsetting him or causing him stress. Losing his dad’s ring, filming—but wait. When he dreamed about being Pippin, hadn’t Billy said something about being abandoned? He had. He’d said the Fellowship was broken, and then he’d said ‘they’ve abandoned us’. Why was he feeling—or worried about being—abandoned? And how did Dom fit into it? Surely he knew Dom was his best mate, and he Dom’s, and that Dom would never just drop that, never let Billy go without a damn good fight. Unless—unless this was about—

Billy suddenly started thrashing against the blanket on his lap, kicking it away, suddenly sounding almost angry as he muttered Dom’s name over and over. He staggered to his feet, stumbling over the blanket tangled around his ankles, lurched toward the porch railing, and began trying to climb over it. “Dom—Dom—Dom—“

Afraid Billy was going to break his neck taking a tumble from the rail, Dom made a lunge for him, pulled him back. “Bills. Shh, it’s all right. Come on, let’s go back inside.”

Billy struggled against him a little. “Dom. Mum, I need Dom.”

“Shh, Bills. Come with me.” Dom pulled Billy’s arms, tugging him along, until Billy started shuffling along under his own steam. Dom took him by the hand and led him into the house, pausing to close and lock the door, not that it apparently did much good the last time, he thought.

“I fucking need Dom!”

He said, “Shh, Billy, quiet. Dom needs you, too,” and led him back into the bedroom. He left the hall light on for a bit of light to see by.

“Dom lost me.”

That made Dom pause. What the hell did that mean? Lost…forgotten? Left behind? Was careless? “ _Jesus_ ,” he muttered. “Billy, you are talking to Fran tomorrow if I have to tie you to a chair first.” He watched in the dim light as Billy climbed back into the large bed, flopped around for a few minutes, mumbling incoherently, and then was still.

Dom looked around the bedroom, memorizing the layout as best he could, and then closed the door, dropping the room into pitch darkness once more. He groped his way to the dresser on the same wall as the door, and began to shove it in front of the doorway. He tried not to grunt too loudly, but the dresser was heavy. Thank God it was a hardwood floor, not carpet, or the damn thing would never have budged. He was probably scratching the hell out of the floor, too, and he’d get a bollocking from Billy for that in the morning, but Dom figured in the long run it was worth it, if it kept Billy safely in the bedroom.

The door finally blocked, Dom wearily crawled back into bed. He reached out, found Billy, and rolled over next to him, listening to his breathing to make sure he truly was asleep. Satisfied, Dom put an arm over Billy, laid his head on Billy’s shoulder, and holding him close, went back to sleep.

He floated to consciousness very briefly, some time around two, to find Billy wrapped around him like a human blanket, legs entwined, one arm around his waist, the other around his neck, his face pressed against Dom’s shoulder. Dom smiled, wrapped his own arms around Billy, leaned his own head against the top of Billy’s, and drifted back to sleep in contentment.

He woke again around three-thirty because he was cold, and he groggily realized he was cold because the blankets were gone. He groped around with one arm, but couldn’t feel them, and he muzzily lifted his head as he realized he couldn’t find Billy, either. A glance in the direction of the door reassured him, though, as not a crack of light could be seen from the hallway—the dresser had worked, apparently. He listened carefully, finally identifying a slight scrabbling noise as Billy searching for the way out. As Dom crawled to the end of the bed to feel around for the blankets and found them on the floor, he said, “Get back to bed, Billy.” He kept his voice low, hoping suggestion might work. It was worth a shot, anyway. “Get back in bed. Come on, Bills, come to bed.” He hauled the blankets up onto the bed and huddled underneath them, shivering.

The scrabbling noise, if anything, grew louder. It sounded like Billy was going back and forth along the wall, feeling high and low for the door, occasionally walking into the dresser with a soft _thump_.

Dom just wanted to warm up for a second before going to get him. “Billy, come back to bed,” he tried again. Just a few more seconds, he wasn’t shivering quite so much now, just a few more seconds under these warm, heavy blankets…

Dom was awakened a very short time later by yelling, not quite screaming but nonetheless filled with so much fear and horror that he bolted upright, heart pounding. Before he could speak, before he could throw the covers back and leap out of bed, there was the gut-twisting, nausea-inducing sound of shattering glass. His heart in his throat, he cried, “ _Billy_!” He scrambled out of bed, blankets tangling around his legs and nearly sending him sprawling, managed to keep his balance and kick the blankets away, only to run headlong into the dresser and slam his knee into a drawer. “Fuck! _Fuck_!” he shouted as he groped for the light switch, and all the while the terror-stricken yelling on the other side of the room continued unabated. Just as Dom’s fingers found and flipped the light switch, he heard actual words form in Billy’s cries, and they sounded like ‘get out’.

Adrenaline pounding through his body, Dom whirled and started toward him, only to stop short at the sight of Billy, still yelling frantically, with his fingers on the ledge of the high, narrow, wall-length window, trying to pull himself up. He’d used the wooden chair from beside his bed to break the glass, but only half the long window had actually shattered, leaving jagged edges all around. If Billy managed to get himself up any higher he’d put his hand on the sill, right on the shards of glass still stuck in the frame.

Dom raced around the bed, ran to Billy, grabbed him by the waist and pulled him back. “Billy—“

But he must have frightened Billy further, or seemed threatening somehow, because suddenly that hidden, tensile, unexpected strength of Billy’s was shoving him back so forcefully he went flying backwards and landed hard on the floor, knocking the air out of his lungs just for a second.

But that second was all it took for a now-shrieking Billy to reach up further than he should have been able to reach and to grasp the windowsill with both hands.

Then, even as Dom leapt to his feet, Billy’s screaming stopped cold, to be replaced by an eerie frozen silence.

“Billy?” Dom questioned, chest heaving. “Billy, it’s just me.”

After a few seconds, Billy’s voice came, sounding rougher and more frightened than Dom had ever heard him. “Dom? What—what have I done?”

“Don’t move, Bills,” Dom said quietly. “Hold still for one second, all right?” He hurried back to the dresser.

“Help me, Dom. Please help me.” He sounded near to panic.

“Shh, it’s all right. I’m going to help you. I’m going to help you, I swear it,” Dom murmured, rooting through the drawers until he found a couple of soft cotton t-shirts, then racing back to Billy’s side.

“Please. Help me, Dom,” Billy begged. “Oh God, what have I done?”

“Bill, calm down,” he said sharply, to catch Billy’s attention. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes,” he whispered, the muscles in his back twitching.

“All right. I need you to take a deep breath, because this is going to hurt, Bills, so take a deep breath and then lift your hands up, as straight as you can, do you understand?”

“Yes,” he whispered again, but he didn’t move.

“You’re going to have to do it, Bills,” Dom said gently, ready with the t-shirts. “Want me to tell you when?”

Billy nodded slightly.

“Okay. Deep breath in and let it out.” He waited until he heard Billy take a shuddery breath, blow it out between tight lips. “That’s it. All right, another breath in—and _now_.”

With a jagged cry of pain, Billy jerked his hands off the sill, much faster than Dom would have liked, and not straight up. He brought them down to his chest, began to curl over, his breathing rapid and harsh as the blood began to drip.

“Don’t close your hands,” Dom said sharply, turning Billy by the shoulders. He held the t-shirts out, folded over his hands. “Let me see, Billy.”

Billy laid the backs of his hands on the soft cotton, his fingers curled protectively over his palms, his whole body starting to shake as he gasped shallowly, quickly.

“Easy, Bills,” Dom murmured. He shifted his left hand to support both of Billy’s, brought his right hand out and went to touch Billy’s fingers, but Billy jerked away with a hiss. “It’s okay,” Dom soothed. “I’m just going to look. Let me see, now.”

Trembling, Billy put his hands back on the cloth, the blood soaking in as it pooled in his palms, ran along the creases to drip down the sides. He uncurled his fingers just a bit, moaned.

“That hurts, eh? You can move your fingers, though, that’s good,” Dom said quietly, encouragingly. “There’s still some glass in there, we’re going to have to get that out. We’ll get you to the bathroom, rinse that blood off so we can see what’s what, yeah? Come on, Bills. Come sit down for a minute.” He led Billy around the bed, sat him on the edge, the t-shirts in his lap and his hands on the t-shirts. “You’re all right,” he said gently, wiping the cold sweat off Billy’s forehead. “I’ve got you.” He swiftly went to the dresser, shoved with all his might, adrenalin lending him extra strength, until the door was free. He opened it, letting in the bright light from the hall, then returned to Billy. “Okay, Billy, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He put a hand under one of Billy’s elbows and helped him stand, the other hand grabbing the bloody t-shirts before they could fall to the ground.

Billy just stood there, shaking.

“Come on, Bills,” Dom murmured, and gently propelled him through the door, down the hall, and into the bathroom. He tossed the blood-soaked fabric into the tub to deal with later, and turned the cold water in the sink on. “Put your hands under,” he instructed, his voice low.

Billy did so, but immediately jerked them back with a cry when it stung.

Dom felt slightly ill at the sight of the blood splashed all over the white porcelain sink. “No, put them back, Billy. Give it a minute, the water will numb it a bit.” He swallowed down the bile in his throat.

With a deep shuddering breath, Billy thrust his palms under the stream of cold water, and groaned, his entire body going rigid.

“Shh, you’re all right.” Dom softly rubbed up and down Billy’s back. “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.”

As the cold water did indeed begin to numb the cuts on his hands, a little of the tension left Billy’s back, and he curled over, leaning his forearms on the edge of the sink, letting his head hang.

“I’m just going to get a clean towel, I’ll be right back,” Dom promised. When he returned a moment later with two small, freshly-laundered towels from Billy’s cupboard, he found Billy standing upright again, shifting his weight back and forth from foot to foot. “All right there, Billy?”

“It fucking hurts,” he growled roughly.

“Maybe it’s a little too cold. Take them out of the water for a minute. I want to look at them anyway.” Dom started searching through Billy’s cupboards and drawers. “Do you have tweezers, Bill? And alcohol?”

“Third drawer,” he ground out. “Bottle in bottom drawer.”

“Perfect.” Dom retrieved the two items, motioned Billy over so he could get at the sink. He carefully washed the tweezers with a bit of soap, rinsed them well, then poured the alcohol over them. “That should do. I’m going to try not to touch you with them anyway.”

“What are you going to do?” Billy warily muttered, obviously not keen on the idea of doing anything at all.

“I’m just going to take out that chunk of glass in your left hand before it causes any more damage, then we’re heading to the hospital.”

Billy was shaking his head before Dom even finished saying it. “No. No hospital. No. I won’t go.”

“You have to, Bills,” Dom said softly, gently, feeling Billy slide back toward the edge of panic. “I’m sorry, but this—“ he gestured to Billy’s still-bleeding palms, “—is way beyond me. There might still be glass in there, you might have sliced something that needs repairing, you’ll probably need stitches. You need to be checked by someone who knows what they’re doing, Billy.”

“No,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Dom said quietly but firmly. “I’ll take you, and I’ll wait for you. I won’t leave you there. But you’re going.”

Lacking the strength to fight anymore, Billy’s posture slumped in defeat.

“You won’t be left there, Bills,” Dom softly reiterated. “Now rinse your left hand again, and give it here.” He held up one of the towels spread over his own left palm and waited until a shaking Billy placed a temporarily clean hand on it.

“Hold as still as you can, Bill,” Dom murmured, his mouth suddenly dry. “Take a deep breath, this is probably going to hurt like fuck.” Before either of them had too much time to think about it, Dom gripped the shard of glass firmly with the tweezers and pulled it swiftly, cleanly out of Billy’s palm. As Billy sharply gasped, then swore, Dom grabbed his wrist and pushed his freshly-bleeding hand under the running water, holding him there firmly when he tried to jerk away.

“Christ, Dom, that fucking hurts!” Billy cried.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Billy,” Dom whispered.

After a moment, Billy dropped his head. “No. Dom—shite. I’m sorry about this,” he said rigidly, wretchedly. “I’m sorry about all of this.”

Dom set the tweezers and the piece of glass on the shelf above the sink. He laid that hand on the back of Billy’s neck, tugged him a bit closer to kiss the top of his head. “It’s not your fault,” he said softly. “You hear me? It was an accident, Bills. This _isn’t your fault_.”

But Billy wouldn’t answer him.

Sighing worriedly, Dom shut off the tap, picked up the towel again, held it out underneath Billy’s hands. He looked closely at each cut when Billy rested them on the soft cloth. The deepest one, the one he’d pulled the glass from, was still bleeding freely, but the others seemed to have slowed a bit. “All right, Bills, I don’t see anymore glass. Let’s get dressed and get you to the hospital so they can be sure, yeah?”

Dom led him back to the bedroom and sat him on the bed. He quickly yanked on jeans, a t-shirt, and a warm jumper, then turned back to Billy, who sat staring at his hands. “Where are your trackies?” But Billy seemed not to hear, and it wasn’t until Dom went over and laid a gentle hand on Billy’s head, repeating the question, that Billy mumbled something about the bottom drawer.

Dom retrieved a pair of tracksuit bottoms from the dresser, then knelt by Billy’s feet to hold them open so Billy could put his feet through. Dom pulled them up to his knees, helped him stand, tugged them up over Billy’s arse.

Billy turned away, flushing, the cords on his neck standing out.

“Hey,” Dom said, gripping Billy’s chin and forcing green eyes to meet his. “It’s just me. You’d do the same if I was hurt, wouldn’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question, and Billy jerkily nodded even as he dropped his eyes. “There you are then. Now, we just need a shirt and jumper for you. You’re not going to be much of a fashion statement, I’m afraid,” he joked lightly, and he kept up a quiet, meaningless banter while he pulled out a t-shirt with wide, loose sleeves, and a thick jumper with large cuffs. “…and that was the last we let Orli say about that. He’s so full of shite. Give me one hand, Billy.” His fingers held open one arm hole of the t-shirt, stretching it wide.

Billy didn’t move, staring at the carpet.

“Billy?”

No response.

Dom knelt down in front of him, coming into his line of sight. He waited until Billy’s eyes slowly rose to meet his, and his heart constricted at the turmoil he saw there. “I need you to stay with me, Bills,” he said clearly. “You’re scaring me a little. Don’t shut down on me now, all right?”

With an effort, Billy nodded, and his voice was rough as he said, “Okay, Dom.”

“Good man. Give me your right hand.” He held out the widened sleeve and let Billy slowly, tentatively maneuver his own hand in, managing not to let anything touch his palm. They repeated it with the other sleeve, and Dom finished by pulling it over Billy’s head. “There, that wasn’t so bad. Let’s get your jumper on now.”

Once his sweater was on and Dom had found shoes for him, Billy shuffled out to the front door, trying to hold his still-bleeding left hand so that it wouldn’t drip all over the floor. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the practical side of him didn’t want Dom to have to come back and clean blood splatters off the parquet. A thought—one which would probably have set him to panicking again if he hadn’t gone mostly numb—struck him. “What time is it?” he mumbled.

“Time?” Dom checked his watch. “Nearly three, why?”

“Bring m’ cell phone. I have to call Pete. I’ll be—I’ll be late. You’ll have to go. I’ll—I’ll need a ride,” he fretted. “And bring my wallet.”

Dom picked the phone and wallet up off the hall table. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry, Billy, I’ll sort everything out while you’re being looked at,” he promised, deliberately being vague as to what he would sort.

Dom buckled Billy into his seat in the car, the bloodstained towel laid across his lap, and set off for the hospital. Not two minutes from the house, they were stopped at a ridiculously long red light, and Dom was looking back and forth down the cross-street trying to decide whether to just run it considering there wasn’t another soul in sight, when Billy startled him by speaking.

“It was on fire.”

“What was?”

He stared down at his cut hands. “The house. It was on fire, and I was burning alive and I couldn’t get out.”

“You remember it?” Dom asked, surprised.

Billy nodded slightly, willing himself to stay numb. “Don’t know why. Didn’t any of the other times. But I remember—flames licking at my back. No door. Couldn’t find a door, so I tried—to go out through the window. And someone, this huge—person—tried to pull me back, to keep me there, to make me burn.” Despite his best effort to keep everything at a distance, he began to tremble. “I—I pushed him away, but I push—pushed him back into the fire and he burned and I heard him scream, I heard such terrible screams—“

“Bill—oh God, Billy, I’m sorry!”

The stricken tone in Dom’s voice made Billy, shaking almost uncontrollably, look up, and he was almost surprised by the look of horror on Dom’s face. He frowned, full of confusion and a multitude of fears. “What? I don’t—don’t understand.” He stumbled over his words.

“I’m so sorry, Bills, I didn’t know,” Dom whispered, his hand reaching out to Billy but faltering again before he actually touched him. “You didn’t really respond to me before, the other times, I thought—I didn’t know I— _Jesus_. This is all my fault, Bill, I’m so sorry.”

“’S not your fault,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“It is. Fuck, it is.” Dom dropped his head onto the steering wheel, completely forgetting for the moment that they were sitting at an intersection waiting for a light that had turned green, yellow, and red again, and that he was supposed to be getting Billy to the hospital.

“Christ!” he nearly shouted, disquieting Billy again.

“Dom—“

“I’m meant to be looking after you Bills, but I royally fucked up, I’m sorry!” he moaned, lifting his head and meeting Billy’s eyes in anguish. “I blocked the door, so you dreamed you couldn’t get out, you dreamed you were burning alive and _I’m_ the one who pulled you back, you were going to put your hands on the glass, I just wanted to stop you but instead I terrified you and made it ten times worse, and Christ, Billy, I didn’t mean to—“

“Dom!” Billy bellowed, then sank back into his seat as if it had taken every last ounce of energy he had.

“Yeah, Bill?” he whispered, guilt-ridden.

“Light’s green.”

Dom stared at Billy, turned to look at the light, then wordlessly put the car in gear and accelerated away from the intersection. He felt Billy’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to return that gaze, didn’t want to see the pain, the haunted look, not when he knew he was more than partially responsible.

“Dom,” Billy said again, this time very quietly.

“Y-yeah, Bills?”

“Don’t.”

“I don’t know what—“ he began, hedging, practically squirming with remorse.

“Don’t pull back now. ‘Cos of some stupid bloody misguided sense of guilt. We don’t know what the fuck we’re doing.” Billy’s voice was low, dull, and he leaned his head against the seat in exhaustion. “I need your help, Dom,” he whispered.

“You have it,” Dom responded immediately, his hand going from the gearshift to clasp Billy’s shoulder tightly. “For what it’s worth, anyway. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Billy tilted his head briefly to lay his cheek against the back of Dom’s hand. Then he straightened his neck, leaned his head back again, and stared out the window. The rest of the trip was made in silence.

 

 

At the hospital, Dom dropped Billy at the doors to Casualty, drove around to park, then nearly sprinted in to find him at the desk with the admitting nurse. He handed over Billy’s ID, and when it was returned it was accompanied by a sheaf of forms to be filled out. Dom sighed. “Come on, Billy, let’s have a seat and get started on these,” he said resignedly.

By the time the forms were complete, nearly fifteen minutes later, Billy looked like he was barely holding on. Dom quickly dropped the paperwork off at the admit desk, then returned to sit a seat away from Billy. “Lay down,” he said quietly. “Lay across the seats, there’s hardly anyone here, and put your head on my leg. Go ahead, Bills.”

Too worn to argue, Billy did as instructed, having to lie on his back because the pressure of lying on one of his arms would have made his hand throb horribly. Dom arranged the bloodstained towel over Billy’s thighs so he could rest his hands, palms up.

“All right, Bills?” Dom murmured.

“Aye.”

“Sleep, if you can.”

“No fucking way—“

“It’s all right,” he soothed. “I’ll wake you every half hour. Nothing will happen that quickly.”

Billy didn’t answer, just turned his head away from Dom slightly. He had no intention whatsoever of letting himself fall asleep again, not until something could be done about his sleepwalking, so to stay awake he’d just…think. After all, thinking was pretty much what got him into his current state, wasn’t it? No sleeping. He was a menace to himself, obviously, and now he was afraid he could hurt Dom, too. It was Dom he’d pushed so hard in the bedroom, and if he could do that there was no knowing what else he could do, if his dreaming self thought he was being threatened. And oh God, don’t think about hurting Dom, don’t think about the screams of someone being burned alive. Think about…Mum, his mind supplied, and he wondered again why. He frowned. “Dom? Tell me why you think I’ve been missing my mum and dad.”

“Not now, Billy. Go to sleep.”

“Please, Dom. I need to know.”

Dom sighed. “All right. But then will you sleep?”

Billy nodded once, shortly.

“Well—keep in mind this is just a guess, yeah? I’m probably way off, because I’m not always the most subtle bloke on the planet, am I, I tend to take things too literally sometimes, you’re the one who reads—“

“Get on with it,” he growled.

Dom exhaled through his nose. “You said you’ve been homesick. When I’m homesick, I miss Mum, Dad, Matt, my room, the leather recliner in the living room, the pizza place down the road. Specific things, you know? Like, I’ll see a colour the exact shade of Mum’s kitchen, and suddenly I’ll miss sitting at the table with some biscuits and chatting with her while she washes the veg. Specifics. When you’re feeling homesick, what is it you miss, Bills?”

Billy hesitated.

“Don’t think about it, just tell me. When you feel homesick, what are you missing?”

“Margaret.”

“And?” Dom persisted.

“Glasgow, I guess.”

“That’s it?”

Billy frowned. “What do you want me to say?”

Dom absently began stroking Billy’s hair. “It’s almost like—like it’s too…I don’t know. It’s almost like it’s too formless, too indefinable. How can you be homesick for something so huge, so impersonal? Glasgow isn’t your home, it’s where you live. You don’t have a home right now, do you? You lived with your sister, but it wasn’t _your_ home, it was hers. So I suppose it’s like, in the very back of your mind, the only truly happy home you’ve ever had to miss was the one you had as a child—with your mum and dad. So they keep coming to mind, and you miss them because they were your home. Like your brain’s done this odd little replacement job to give itself a specific, a focus. And you know what, Bill? Now that I put all that into words, it sounds pretty lame—“ He looked down, and was dismayed to see Billy’s eyes closed tightly, tears trickling down his temples, into his hair, into his ears. “Billy, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“Shut up. Just fucking—don’t,” he forced out.

“I’m sorry, Bill—“

“Dom, shut the hell up. It wasn’t lame, all right? Just let me—don’t—I can’t— _fuck_!” he whispered, and his face contorted. “I can’t fucking stop.”

“So don’t,” Dom said quietly. “You’re exhausted, I know that. Turn your face to me.”

Billy turned his head towards Dom’s stomach, and Dom casually laid his forearm across the side of Billy’s head, shielding him from all but the closest of views. He stayed silent while Billy quietly wept, and he pretended to watch the TV mounted to the wall above the vending machines.

Eventually Billy’s tears stopped, and Dom wiped his face dry with the sleeve of his jumper. He resumed his slow stroking of Billy’s hair, and they stayed like that until a nurse came to get Billy. Both Dom and the nurse helped an unsteady Billy to his feet, and when Billy looked an appeal at Dom, the nurse quickly told him he was just going to have his initial examination, and then his—and she hesitated before kindly saying _friend_ could join him. Dom flashed a wink at Billy, was relieved to see a slight quirk at one corner of his mouth before he followed the nurse willingly away.

Dom immediately slipped outside and headed away from the Casualty doors. He pulled Billy’s cell phone out, checked his watch and cringed, then dialed a number.

“Hello?”

“Morning, Fran, it’s Dom Monaghan.”

“Dom honey,” she said calmly, like she hadn’t just been woken at a godforsaken hour. “What’s wrong?”

“Bit of a to-do, I’m afraid, Fran. Is Peter still there?” he asked as he paced up and down the sidewalk.

“Is everyone all right?”

“Yes,” he said reassuringly, then added, “Although not at top form. I’m at the hospital with Billy, he had a bit of an accident and cut his hands. He’s going to be here a while yet, and he’s not going to be in any shape for filming.”

“Oh, no,” she said, distressed. “Poor Billy. How bad?”

“Probably some stitches, I hope nothing more than that. But I think he’s going to be out for a couple of days.” Dom leaned on a railing, let his head drop. “Actually, Fran—I was wondering if you could spare a bit of time to see him today, to talk to him. He said he’d be willing to talk to you. Things are—a bit off these days.”

“What do you mean, honey?” she asked softly, and Dom could hear the frown in her voice.

“Well—he’s been…stressed lately. And he’s worrying a lot, and it’s kind of tying him up in knots. He’s not sleeping well because he’s, I don’t know, anxious, I guess, so he’s getting more and more exhausted and now he’s sleepwalking, Fran, that’s what happened tonight, he cut his hands on broken glass because he broke a window while he was sleepwalking and I’m trying to help him, Frannie, I’ve been trying for a couple days now, but I’m not very good at this and could you talk to him and help him try and sort it out?” Dom finished with a rush, annoyed to find tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“All right, Dom,” she said soothingly. “I’ll tell Peter you and Billy are both off today and tomorrow, and we’ll go from there. Let’s see what the doctor says about his hands, all right?”

“No, I can still be there, Fran, I’ll just need to make arrangements for Billy, I can’t leave him alone here—“

“Dom,” she cut him off gently. “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but you sound terrible. I don’t think you’d be much use on set today either, would you?”

“But—“

“Dominic, don’t argue with me.” There was the Fran he wanted for Billy—an inner steel rod of strength and determination, covered by soft comforting cushioning and a velvet touch.

“Yes, Fran,” he said meekly, but with relief.

“Besides, if his hands have been hurt badly enough for stitches, he’ll need help with things, Dom, he won’t be able to manage things for himself, and I don’t think Billy would take kindly to a stranger feeding him or dressing him, do you?”

He couldn’t help a little snort. “I can’t really see it, no.”

“Neither can I. He’s going to need his Merry to look after him,” she smiled, gently teasing. “Dom, will you please tell the doctor that looks after him there about the sleepwalking? Ask if there’s a temporary, one-night help, just to get him a full night’s sleep. Or two, if they’ll go that far.”

“I will. Listen, I should talk to Pete, I should apologize for completely bollocksing up the schedule like this—“

“No, it’s all right, I’ll let Peter know. He knows life goes on outside the Shire, much as we all wish it didn’t sometimes.”

“Thanks, Frannie,” Dom said fervently.

“What time do you want me over, and where?”

“Billy’s. Do you know where it is?”

She smiled, gently teasing him. “I think I might be able to find out, yes.”

“Right. Sorry,” Dom chuckled ruefully. “Guess I’m a bit tired myself, yeah?”

“Why don’t you just call me when he’s awake? That will give both of you time to rest. I’ll set things up in the meantime.”

“Thanks, Frannie,” he said again.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Funny,” Dom smiled, “And I thought you were here to write a script.”

“Cheeky. Go take care of Billy. And Dom—tell him not to worry. It’s only a minor schedule shift,” she said kindly. “It’s not like we’re rearranging the Battle of Pelennor around him.”

“I’ll try. Not bloody likely he’ll buy it, but I’ll try.”

“See you later, then, Dom.”

“Ta, Fran.”

 

 

Back inside the hospital, Dom waited quite some time before the nurse came to get him, saying he could join his _friend_ now. He smiled and headed straight to the exam room.

He found Billy seated on the edge of a gurney, feet dangling, hunched over with his head hanging down. Dom lightly said, “There you are, dearest angel who is apparently my boy _friend_. How’s things?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he growled without looking up, and it wasn’t until Dom got a bit nearer that he saw the fresh blood soaking through otherwise pristinely white gauze pads, and realized they must have been poking around in his wounds.

“Christ, Billy, I’m so sorry—“

“Oh, don’t fucking start that shite again,” he snapped.

Dom took a short breath, then cheerfully said, “You didn’t let me finish. I was _about_ to say I was sorry for not bringing your practice sword so you could use it on whoever’s made you bleed again. Or better yet, your real sword.”

“Couldn’t hold it anyway, could I?” he muttered, though less harshly.

“I could wield it for you. You know, the knight errant defending his lady’s honour. Only I wouldn’t exactly be defending your honour, would I, and you’re not really pretty enough to be a lady. But you know what I mean. A few thwacks upside the head with the blunt side and they’d be a lot more careful with my Bills.”

Billy quietly said, “Are so pretty enough.”

It took Dom a second to realize Billy was trying to joke, he just didn’t have the energy to make his voice match his intent. He cocked his head to the side. “Well, you do have good bone structure,” he conceded. “And those charming little lips, of course. All right, you’re _almost_ pretty enough to be a lady.”

“Prettier than an elf, though, right?” he murmured.

“Absolutely. Fucking elves.”

The very corners of Billy’s mouth turned up in a tiny smile, but all he said was, “Sit down, gobshite.” He nodded toward the chair by the bed, but Dom hopped up to sit beside him on the gurney.

“So what’s the verdict? Was there any more glass in there?”

“No. And they checked really bloody thoroughly,” Billy muttered.

“Kinda had to, Bill. After all, you wouldn’t want to be doing something of a…personal nature, and have a piece of glass pop out, would you?” he grinned. “Might be a bad moment, there.”

It earned an actual little snort of laughter from Billy. “Wanker.”

“Well, I was trying to be delicate, but if you want to just come right out and say it like that—“ he stopped in surprise as Billy suddenly leaned against him and laid his head on Dom’s shoulder. “What’s this, then?” he asked softly, lifting his arm to encircle Billy’s shoulders.

Billy readjusted his position as Dom’s shoulder moved and ended up sagging into his side, the top of his head against Dom’s neck. “Thank you, Dom,” he whispered. “I don’t know—I can’t—just…thank you.”

Dom kissed Billy’s hair. “You’re my best mate, Billy. You know I’d do anything for you, don’t you?”

“Aye. I guess I do.”

“Good. Now if only I could manage to _not_ land you in hospital, we’d be all set. All right, all right,” he quickly said at Billy’s noise of protest, “We’ll drop that conversation.” He rubbed his hand up and down Billy’s arm. “Why don’t you lie down and take a quick catnap, Bills?”

“No point,” he mumbled. “They’ll be back to do the stitches any minute. Just waiting for the local to kick in.”

“Local? They’ve done it already?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. Needles too, Bill? God, I’m sorry—“

“ _Dom_ —“ Billy growled warningly.

He held his free hand up, placating. “Sorry, sorry.”

Billy snorted, and Dom chuckled.

“You know what I mean. So is it working? Is that why you’re a little more relaxed now?”

“No. They gave me something. Said I was in shock. Utter bollocks. But at least I can’t feel it much now.” He was quiet for a minute, then on a shuddery, indrawn breath said, “Can’t feel much of anything now.”

“It’ll be all right,” Dom said gently.

“I don’t know—don’t think I can take much more tonight, Dom,” he whispered raggedly.

“I know.” He tightened his grip around Billy’s shoulders, kissed his hair again. “I know. You won’t have to.”

Just then several people in scrubs came in and Dom was shunted aside and told to leave, but Billy quickly asked if he could stay, and Dom promised to stay out of the way if they’d let him. A nurse found him a stool and pushed him in the corner. She returned to Billy and sat on a stool to his immediate right. "Okay, Billy, I'm just going to work your ring off--"

"No. Leave it on."

The nurse shook her head. "I'm afraid we can't. I'll be careful."

Billy pulled his hand away. "No, I have to keep it on."

"I'm sorry, but it has to come off, Billy," she explained patiently. "If there's any swelling or infection, it could impede your circulation, and good blood flow is important for healing. Besides, if your hand swelled up, we'd just have to cut the ring off, and you wouldn't want us to do that, would you?"

Billy looked like he was tempted to say they'd bloody well cut his finger off first, but he held his tongue and after a brief hesitation, held his hand out again.

Even though the nurse was obviously taking care, Billy's lips still thinned into a white line as she worked the ring off his finger. "There, all done," she said cheerfully. "Where would you like me to put it?"

"Give it to Dom, please," Billy muttered.

Dom stood and crossed over, trying to stay out of the way. The nurse dropped it into his hand, and as he was about to put it in his pocket, Billy shook his head.

"No," he said sharply. "Put it on."

"Are--are you sure, Bill?"

"Put it on and make sure it's tight. And don't fuc--don't take it off."

"Okay," Dom promised, and then said, "Hey. Bill." He waited until Billy looked up at him, and as reassuringly as he could, added, "It'll be safe with me."

Some of the lines around Billy's mouth eased. "Okay. Thanks, Dom."

Another nurse, trying to maneuver the wheeled instrument tray over, snapped at Dom. "Out of the way or out of the room."

Dom quickly returned to his corner, and sat on his little stool.

Billy looked disappointed, but Dom shifted a little until he could maintain eye contact with Billy, and then grinned at him. “Don’t think I could stomach watching you get sewn up anyway, Bill—needlepoint’s always made me nauseous.” Dom was teasing, but the nauseous part was true enough—even watching Billy flinch as something tugged a little too sharply was making him queasy. The very idea of sewing up skin had always bothered him, much to the disgust of his mother the nurse. He’d never even watched _Frankenstein_ , in case there was gratuitous stitching.

So Dom stayed in the corner and Billy kept his eyes locked on that open, smiling, blue-grey, rather bloodshot gaze, drawing strength and patience and trying not to cringe when something hurt. He saw Dom’s mouth get a little pinched every time he did, and that alone helped, knowing there was someone with him who was that concerned for his comfort, his welfare, that he was willing to stay even though it perturbed him, and he felt Dom’s support like a firm hand on his back. He felt a flutter of something at the back of his mind, something trying to point out an important fact, but Billy couldn’t allow that right now, he wasn’t ready for that yet, he just…couldn’t.

Dom was careful to keep his eyes on Billy, could almost feel Billy trying to latch on to any bit of strength he could, and he tried to encourage Billy with his eyes, fancied he could see the connection between them like a thin silver thread, thrumming in the air.

Finally the stitches were done, the doctor sounding pleased with herself as she cheerfully told Billy she didn’t think there would be much scarring at all, really.

“When can I use my right hand?” Billy asked as it was wrapped in gauze straight to the fingertips, matching his left.

“You’re right-handed?”

“Yeah. I really need to be able to use it.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “Not at all for three days. Then try using your fingers, but if it hurts, stop. Otherwise you should have full and complete use within…a week and a half, tops.”

Billy groaned in frustration.

“Your left hand,” she went on rather pointedly, crossing her arms on her chest, “will take a little longer. No use for a full week, but after that start using your fingers. You should have full mobility in two weeks, two and a half at the very outside. Just don’t push it.”

“All right,” he murmured. “I play guitar. I don’t want to risk that.”

“Good,” she nodded, standing up. “No getting the hands wet, they’re dissolving stitches so you don’t need to come back. When your right hand is healed, wash your hair or do dishes or something and they’ll start coming out. Keep the left dry for a full week and a half at least, even if you start using it before then. If you have any concerns about it _at all_ , see a doctor or come back here. I’ll get you some painkillers, it’s going to hurt the next few days, and you’ll need to be on an antibiotic as well.” She picked up his chart and made a few notes. “I think that’s it. No, one more—have someone change the dressings every day for the first four days or so, and make sure everything looks all right. After tomorrow, if there is any redness or swelling, get it looked at. Capiche?”

Billy smiled faintly. “Capiche. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She grinned at him. “Hope I never see you again.” And then she was gone.

Dom quickly told Billy not to move, he’d be right back, and scrambled after her, ignoring Billy’s startled protest. He ran into the corridor, spotting the doctor halfway down it already, and sprinted in her direction. “Excuse me! Doctor—“

She paused, turned, waited for him to catch up. “Yes?”

“I’m with Billy Boyd—the bloke you just stitched up?”

She looked at him curiously. “Yes?”

“Can I—I need—he’s—“ Dom tripped over his words.

Laughing kindly, she said, “I need a coffee. Come with me, and see if you can spit it out.”

Blushing a bit, he chuckled and said, “I’ll try.” He followed her down the hallway and began to explain Billy’s exhaustion, anxiety, and now the sleepwalking. The doctor paused outside a room marked ‘Lounge’.

“Would you like a coffee?” she asked.

“Please,” Dom nodded gratefully.

“Just a minute then. Sorry, it’s staff only.” She disappeared.

Dom leaned tiredly against the wall, scrubbing his face with his hands. He hoped Billy wasn’t going to be too pissed with him for this.

“Are you all right?” The doctor asked him with concern tingeing her voice, making him jump.

Dom dropped his hands, smiled wearily. “Yeah. Long night.” He took the paper cup of coffee she held out, then took two sugar cubes and a stir-stick from the napkin in her other hand. “Ta very much.”

“Let’s find somewhere to sit,” she suggested, and once again led him down the corridor, this time to a small, empty family waiting area. She took a seat, stretching her scrubs-clad legs out in front of her, gesturing Dom to do the same. “So. Your friend’s hands—how did it happen? He told the nurse he cut them on some broken glass.”

“He did,” Dom nodded. “But he broke it when he was sleepwalking.”

“How? Tell me all the details you know,” she encouraged.

Dom did, starting with how he blocked the door, hoping to keep Billy safe, and he flushed as he said it, realizing it had been a rather stupid idea.

“It’s all right,” she said. “We don’t often think straight when woken in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah. Well,” Dom said wryly. He told her the rest of it, including what Billy had said he’d dreamed.

She pulled her legs in, leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, coffee cup held loosely in one hand. “Do you know anything about—I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Dom.”

“Dr. Te Puamoeawa. Do you know anything about sleepwalking, Dom?”

He shook his head. “Not much. I know it can be caused by stress and exhaustion, though, and that’s Bill to a tee right now.”

“And you say he has no prior history of it?”

“None.”

She sighed. “His dream of being burned alive is a common one. Along with being trapped in a collapsed building, with being buried alive, and—“ she frowned. “There’s another one, can’t think of it right now. Dealing with a sleepwalker, especially one as ambulatory as Billy seems to be, can be very tricky, as I think you’re learning. You need to keep them safe, but impeding them can actually make it worse. Like you blocking the door, or pulling him back. They often dream they need to escape from something, so when they are thwarted they can sometimes act to eliminate the obstacle.”

“But his other dreams weren’t—“

“Do you know what they were about?” Dr. Te Puamoeawa asked curiously.

“Not really, he didn’t remember them. But from things he did, from what he said, he was dreaming about his parents—they died when he was young,” Dom explained, and she nodded. “And he dreamed about—about work, about being with his mates back home, and a couple I’m not sure what they were about.”

She looked at him closely, quietly said, “Things on his mind, things he’s worried about.”

Dom nodded mutely.

“And why are you telling me all this, Dom?” she asked. “What is it you want?”

“For him to sleep,” Dom said promptly, beseechingly. “Is there anything you can give him so that he can get some sleep without having to worry he’s going to walk out of his house in the middle of the night in nothing more than his shorts? Just for today, so he can actually get some real rest? He won’t sleep because he’s afraid of what he’ll do. We have a—a friend coming to talk to him this afternoon, but he’s going to bloody well snap soon if he doesn’t get some real sleep, so please, is there anything for just this once—“ He broke off as she wordlessly handed him a box of tissues from the table beside her, and he was angry and embarrassed to find tears in his eyes again.

The doctor didn’t look at him as he took one, blotted his eyes dry. “I’m glad you told me this, Dom, because the painkillers I was going to prescribe would have made matters even worse. But if you’ll give me your word—“ and she did look at him then, her gaze direct and frank, “If you’ll give me your word he’s going to start trying to deal with this, then yes, there’s something I can give him for now. Sleep is the most important thing to start with.”

“He is.” Dom met her eyes squarely. “I swear, he is, Dr. Te Puamo—Puama—“

“Call me Dr. Moira,” she smiled, and it was obvious she’d had to say it before. “It’s actually Moerewa, but Moira’s a little easier to remember.“ She nodded then. “All right, Dom. It’s an anti-anxiety hypnotic, it’ll keep him asleep, and while he may still dream quite vividly, it’s also a muscle relaxant strong enough that at worst he’ll flop about in bed, maybe talk a little. He won’t be walking anywhere, and he’ll sleep solidly and straight through. But it’s not a drug to be taken lightly or long-term. It has serious effects if taken for more than a few days.”

“I understand,” Dom said, a little scared.

“He’ll get a good sleep, which will do wonders for him,” Dr. Moira reassured him. “And only taken for a day or two, it’s perfectly safe.”

“All right. How long will he sleep for?”

“Probably eight or nine hours, and he’ll still be very groggy when he wakes up, so remind him it’s just the drug and it will wear off. But he may even sleep longer than that, as tired as he is.”

Dom’s eyes filled again, this time with relief, and disgusted with himself, he started to apologize as he dried his eyes once more.

“It’s all right,” she said kindly, sympathetically. “It’s not easy dealing with a sleepwalker. This way you can sleep too.”

“It would be safe?” Dom asked, uncertain. “He doesn’t need watching?”

“No. Like I said, he may still dream, but he won’t sleepwalk. And you may find he just sleeps like the dead.”

“That would be really, really good,” Dom said fervently.

“Does he drink?”

“Yes, but not to excess. A glass of Scotch here or there.”

“No alcohol—absolutely no alcohol with these drugs. And it’s possible alcohol can trigger sleepwalking, or exacerbate it, although there’s no definitive proof for that until you get into the range of being an alcoholic. But best to be safe and abstain all together.”

Dom made a face. “Give up his Scotch, hmm? I’d better wear protective clothing when I tell him. No, he won’t touch it if there’s any chance it makes it worse.”

“All right. You get back to Billy, then, he’ll be thinking you’ve abandoned him—“ She frowned when Dom started, then swore under his breath. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh—nothing. He’s just going to be pissed with me for leaving him sitting there so long,” Dom said lamely, already getting to his feet.

“I’ll change the orders on his chart, get you the hypnotic, a dose of antibiotics to start, and a painkiller for the morning. You can fill the rest of the scrips tomorrow, all right?” She stood as well.

“Yes—that’s great—thank you. Thank you, Dr. Moira,” he said gratefully, already trying to figure out which way to go.

“Left, then your first right,” she chuckled. “Nice to meet you, Dom!” she called to his retreating back.

He turned with an apologetic grin, jogging backwards. “Thank you.”

 

 

A minute and a half later Dom burst through the door of the room he’d left Billy in, huffing a little. “Bills—sorry—“

A look of intense relief flashed across Billy’s face, followed immediately by anger. “Where the fuck’ve you been?” he demanded, his voice tight. “Where the fuck has everyone got to? Someone was supposed to bring me a prescription and let me go home, I just want to go home, Dom, and do you realize I can’t even open the goddamned door by myself? How the hell am I supposed to—“

Dom crossed the room in two steps and took Billy’s face between his hands. “Bills, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I thought someone would be in to help you, I’m sorry.”

“I want to go home,” he muttered, eyes downcast.

“I know. A couple more minutes until your drugs arrive, and then I’ll take you straight home, I promise.” Dom brushed Billy’s cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m so sorry, Bills.”

“I want to go home,” he repeated, jerking away.

“I know,” Dom murmured. “Soon. We’ll be home before the sun’s up.” He checked his watch, suddenly wondering if he was lying.

“What time is it?”

“Five-forty. Sun’s not up until seven, we’ll make it.” Dom smiled gently.

But Billy’s eyes snapped open in horror. “ _Five-forty_? Fuck! We’re supposed to be in Feet, Dom! Give me the mobile, I’ll call Pete, I’ll tell him we’ll be—“

“Shh, Bills, it’s all right,” Dom soothed, brushing the hair back off his forehead. “I called. It’s all taken care of, you hear me? It’s fine.”

Billy pushed Dom away with his elbow. “Quit talking to me like I’m fucking six years old! What’s taken care of? What time do we have to be there? Because I need to figure out how—“

“Billy, shut it,” Dom said firmly. “I called the house and I talked to Fran. She’s ordered us both a lazy day in. And when I say ordered, I mean ordered.” He quirked a little smile at Billy. “She called me _Dominic_.”

Billy stared at him, confused. “But—but we’re filming.”

“Other people are filming. You and I are not.”

“We’re on the schedule,” he persisted doggedly.

“We _were_ on the schedule. It has been adjusted.”

“Oh my God,” he groaned. “Now I’ve fucked up the schedule—“

“No, you haven’t,” Dom said loudly, cutting him off. “In fact, Fran gave me a message for you. Are you listening?” He waited until he was sure he had Billy’s attention. “Fran told me to tell you not to worry—it’s not like they’re re-arranging the Battle of Pelennor around you. I think—“ he suddenly grinned cheekily, “I think she was telling you to get over yourself, Bills.”

It took a minute to sink in, but when it did, Billy visibly relaxed, and then snorted, then nearly collapsed forward to lean against Dom.

Dom wrapped his arms around the slightly trembling body in front of him, hugging tightly.

“What am I going to do, Dom?”

“The second we get home you’re going to sleep—“

“No. No. I can’t, I won’t. I can’t—“

“Shh. You can. That’s where I buggered off to, I talked to your doctor. She’s going to give you something to help you sleep, Billy, and she promised you _will not sleepwalk_. So you don’t need to worry, you don’t need to be afraid, you can lay down and go to sleep, we can go to sleep together, and you might still dream but you won’t wake up and you won’t sleepwalk and you’ll sleep for hours and hours, Bills.”

Billy made a small sound against Dom’s chest.

“I know. I know, Billy,” Dom murmured, holding him even tighter. “You’ll finally get some sleep. And later this afternoon Fran is going to come over and talk to you, all right? It’s all uphill from here, Billy, I swear.”

“I’m so fucking tired, Dom,” he said, his voice muffled against Dom’s chest. “I’m sick and tired of this.”

“Almost over, Bills. The end is in sight.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, until Dr. Moira herself came in, and Dom was surprised, he’d been expecting a nurse. Billy sat up, pulling away from Dom, who let him go with a miniscule sigh.

“How are you doing there, Billy? Sick of our company yet?” Dr. Moira asked, hooking over a stool with her ankle and sitting down.

“A little,” he said dully, his voice low.

She glanced up at Dom. “Could you give us a couple minutes, please, Dom? Just outside, we won’t be long.” She transferred her attention back to Billy as Dom left the room. “Just a few questions, then you’ll get your meds and you can go, is that all right, Billy?”

“Yeah.”

“Dom says you’re not sleeping well. Is that true?”

Billy just snorted and raised his bloodshot, heavy-lidded, dark-circled eyes to hers.

She grinned wryly. “I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?”

He nodded.

“And he says you’re sleepwalking.”

“Apparently. I didn’t exactly do this on purpose,” Billy said, lifting his gauze-wrapped hands off his lap slightly.

“I should hope not. You’ve never had any episodes before?”

Billy shook his head. “Never. Always slept like a log.”

“And what are you going to do about it, Billy?” she asked gently.

“I don’t know,” he said wretchedly. “I don’t know what I _can_ do. I’m so bloody tired I can’t think straight.”

“I can give you something to help you sleep today, and again tonight, if you want it.”

“Yes. Please.”

“All right. Allergic to any medications, Billy?”

“No.”

“Currently on any medications? Even over-the-counter ones?”

“No. I already answered all this on the forms—“

“I know,” she said kindly. “I’m judging your mental state at the moment. Humour me.”

“My mental state?” he snorted. “Good luck with that one.”

“Actually, you’re doing remarkably well, all things considered. If you were showing signs of confusion things would get a bit tricky here, but I think your judgement is relatively unimpaired. As for what you can do—“ She sighed. “It’s a difficult problem to treat, I won’t pretend it isn’t. But getting some solid, unbroken sleep will help. And I think it’s time to talk to someone, Billy—a friend, even—about the things that are troubling you. Often times we just need a sounding board. Someone to bounce ideas off of and help us figure out which step to take next.”

He nodded. “Yes. I have to, I can’t—I can’t be like this anymore. This isn’t me. I don’t understand how this happened,” he suddenly groaned. “Things are good—things are beyond good, I’m having the experience of a bloody lifetime, there’s no reason—“

“It doesn’t have to be dramatic to affect you,” Dr. Moira gently pointed out. “It can be something small, a series of little things, that just snowball. Did you start by just having trouble getting to sleep, Billy?”

“Yes,” he muttered unhappily. “Just couldn’t shut my brain down long enough to get to sleep.”

“It can be a bit of a vicious cycle. You get tired thanks to stress and the things that are on your mind, and you sleepwalk. The sleepwalking makes you more tired, so that when you do get to sleep, you drop quickly into the deep delta range, which is when sleepwalking occurs.”

“And it just keeps getting worse.”

“Unfortunately, with you, yes. Which is why I want to break the cycle for you with drugs today, but you can’t continue taking them, so it would be best if you could talk some of this out.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” He said it low, firm.

Dr. Moira nodded and slowly said, “Yes, I believe you will. All right, I’ll send you home with two doses of a sedative-hypnotic, and it also has a muscle-relaxant that will keep you in your bed. At least twelve hours in between the two doses, and don’t be alarmed if you’re very groggy when you wake up. And Billy—“ she added as she rose to her feet.

He looked up at her.

“The next few days are going to be intensely frustrating for you. Try not to let it get to you.”

“I’ll try. Thank you. Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome. Good luck, Billy.” And with a smile and a bit of a nod, she left.

A moment later Dom came back in. “Hey, Bills,” he said softly, walking over to where Billy still sat on the edge of the gurney. “How’s things, then?”

Billy sighed deeply, loudly, exaggeratedly. “Just shoot me now.”

Dom smiled, rubbed his hand up and down Billy’s arm. “Don’t think I will just yet, thanks.”

“Why not? Put me out of my misery.”

“Well, if I shoot you, you’re dead and I’m in prison. Pete would be out the two most important characters in the film, you see, and he’d have to can the whole production, putting hundreds of people out of work and wasting millions of dollars. Besides,” he grinned. “I don’t think I’d do well in prison.”

Billy gave a quiet little chuckle. “Are you kidding? You’d be very popular.”

“That’s what I mean.”

“Ah, Dom—“ Billy looked up at him, a weak smile on his face and gratitude in his eyes. “You’re good for me, you know that? You’re going to get me through this if you have to drag me by the hair, aren’t you?”

“Why, Bills, what a delightfully prehistoric image. Can I wear a dirty great loincloth?”

He huffed a laugh. “Dom, you can wear anything you bloody well want. Just—“

Dom waited, but Billy didn’t continue. “Just what?”

He kept his eyes on his hands. “Just—don’t—don’t go.”

“Not going anywhere, Bills,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Will you help me find—I don’t know—a nurse, or someone, to come in?” he asked, his voice low. “Not going to be able to do anything for myself.”

“I’ll help you,” Dom reassured him. “Don’t worry about anything. We’ll sort it out, I’m sure Fran will help. You’ll be looked after.”

“But—“

“Stop worrying, Billy. You’ll just have to let go of some things and let other people handle them for a bit, all right?” He put his hand on the back of Billy’s neck and squeezed. “Day by day. Just focus on what you need to do for you, and I’ll help with everything else.”

Billy looked up at him, at a loss for words, and before he could get his sluggish thoughts together the door opened and a nurse came in with a tray bearing two different packets and a little plastic cup of antibiotics.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Fifteen minutes later Dom was buckling Billy into the car to go home. He climbed in behind the wheel, started the car. “All set, then?”

“Yeah.” Billy leaned his head back against the seat like he simply couldn’t hold it up anymore.

Dom pulled out of the hospital parking lot. “Do you have black bin liners and some strong tape somewhere in your house?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he mumbled. “Why?”

“I’ll have to do something about your window. It won’t keep noise out, but it’ll have to do until we can get it replaced.”

“I didn’t think about that.”

“No need to. And I’m sure you have regular plastic bags?”

“What for?”

“Keeping your hands dry.”

“Oh. Yeah. I didn’t think—“

“You don’t have to,” Dom insisted. “I’m just working on things out loud. Let me worry about this stuff, yeah?”

“What about—oh, God. Dom, are you sure you want to do this?” Billy fretted. “I can’t—I won’t even be able to brush my own fucking _teeth_ —“

“I know,” he said calmly. “You’re not going to be able to do anything for yourself, Billy, I’m fully aware of that. I’m perfectly willing to do whatever needs to be done.” He glanced over at Billy. “Whatever you need, you bloody well ask, you hear me?”

“Dom—“

“I’m serious, you know,” Dom insisted. “This is not going to be easy, but it’ll be even worse if you start playing shy with me. Leave your fucking modesty and ego at the door and concentrate on getting better and getting back to work, understood?”

“Understood,” Billy said faintly.

“And for my part I’ll try my best to think of what you need before you suffer from a lack of it, and I promise I won’t take the piss—at an inopportune moment, of course.” He suddenly smiled again.

“Of course. Fair game the rest of the time, right?” Billy swiveled his head against the seat and raised an eyebrow.

“Right. Don’t worry, Bills. Uphill from here.”

 

 

Back at Billy’s house, Dom got him inside easily enough, but they ran into a problem almost immediately.

“All right, Bill, let’s get your pills into you and you can go straight to bed.”

“Yeah. Can I have some water, please, Dom?”

They were in the kitchen, so Dom merely had to turn and pour him a glass from the tap. He stopped, and looked, and bit his lip. “Hmm. Hope you don’t mind getting a bit wet.”

“Put the pills in my mouth and I’ll hold the glass between my fingers,” Billy suggested. “I can keep my palms straight.”

Dom tried it himself and immediately shook his head. “It’s too heavy. It’ll pull on the stitches.”

“Shite.”

“Here, sit down.” Dom ushered him to a chair, then stood behind him, reaching around with the glass. “Put the back of your right hand to the bottom of the glass. I’ll hold it, but you push it up, let it down. You’ll control it, and that way I won’t choke you.”

Billy shrugged. “Worth a shot.” He waited for Dom to pop the two sedatives in his mouth, then pushed up on the bottom of the glass, raising it to his lips. It took some adjustment between himself and Dom to get the angle right, and a bit of water ran down his chin, but it worked well enough for him to get the pills down. When he lowered his hand, Dom set the glass on the table and came round to the front of the chair.

“How was that, then?” he asked, grabbing a towel from the counter and drying Billy’s chin.

“Pretty good. I think that will work.”

Dom was pleased. “Good. Now, you’d better get to bed, we don’t know how fast those will kick in, and I don’t fancy trying to drag your unconscious arse in there. Come on, let’s brush your teeth. It’ll be an adventure,” he grinned.

Groaning, Billy got to his feet. “Pretty sad when—“ A sudden thought struck him. “Oh fuck.”

Dom turned. “What?”

Billy’s face reddened, but remembering Dom’s earlier vehemence, he said, “I take a piss every night before bed. I—I can’t get my pants down.”

“Well, we knew this would happen at some point, don’t look so petrified,” Dom said calmly. “I’m going to have to undress you more than once the next few days, so we’d better get used to it.”

Billy gritted his teeth. “Doesn’t mean it’s not still humiliating needing someone to pull my fucking shorts down.”

“Nothing I haven’t see before, Bills,” Dom said cheerfully, trying to keep him from dwelling on his embarrassment.

“It is too!” he protested.

“Well, I may not have seen your percy, but I’ve seen your arse more than once!”

“When?” Billy demanded.

“Hello, Bills—costuming, in the trailer, changing for surfing. In fact, the number of times you’ve gotten naked around me, it’s rather surprising I _haven’t_ seen your dick, really.”

“Dom—“ Billy’s voice was strangled.

“I take it you missed the arse comparison discussion?” Dom cocked his head.

“The _what_?”

“Come on, get ready for bed,” Dom urged, shooing him out of the kitchen. “We were talking about how many times we’ve all seen each other’s arses, so we did a whole arse comparison. Purely complimentary, of course, or it could have gotten out of hand.”

“Who did?” Billy headed for the bathroom, dreading the incipient humiliation.

“Elijah, Orli and I.”

“Figures,” he muttered.

“I don’t remember why you weren’t with us,” Dom mused as he flipped the bathroom light on. “We must have gone back to Elijah’s after a night out and you came home, or something.” He pulled Billy’s toothbrush out of the holder, ran it under the tap, found the toothpaste in the medicine cabinet. “Well, it wasn’t really a comparison, per se. We decided everyone’s arse had an individual characteristic. Only people whose arses we’ve actually seen, of course, not like we did Pete’s, or Richard’s, or anything.”

“Images I don’t need, Dom,” Billy murmured, trying to quell his nervous stomach.

“Open your mouth. I’ll do the best I can, but your back teeth might get a bit fuzzy after a few days, I’m afraid I’ll make you gag.”

Billy’s eyes slid away. “You won’t make me gag.”

For the first time, Dom was truly disconcerted. “I—oh.”

If the situation hadn’t been so very uncomfortable and embarrassing, Billy would have laughed about that. As it was, all he could say was, “Characteristics?” before he parted his lips.

Dom stared at Billy’s mouth for a second before collecting himself, swallowing hard, and beginning to brush Billy’s teeth. “Umm—yeah. Characteristics. Like, Elijah’s arse was the smoothest.”

Billy made an odd noise.

Dom stopped brushing. “Am I hurting you?”

With a mouthful of toothpaste, Billy said, “No. ‘Lij.” And opened his mouth again so Dom could resume brushing.

“Right. Smoothest. Of course, since he’s the youngest, that’s hardly a surprise.” He pulled the toothbrush out of Billy’s mouth. “Spit.”

Billy spat in the sink.

Dom resumed the brushing. “Sean’s was the roundest. Don’t know if I’d ever tell him that, he’s pretty sensitive about all the weight, but we meant it in a good way. Spit.”

He spat.

Dom brushed again. “Yours was the tightest and Orli’s the most muscular. There, does that feel like I got them all?”

Billy nodded and spat. Dom filled the cup, let him take a sip, waited while he rinsed and spat one last time, then rinsed the toothbrush and splashed water around the sink.

“That actually wasn’t too bad, was it?” Dom asked. “Can you live without washing your face tonight?”

“Yeah. Want to sleep. Tightest, huh? Who said that?”

“Nice try, Bills, not telling.”

“What about yours?” Billy raised an eyebrow, then yawned widely, and the resulting expression made Dom smirk.

“Well, first we said mine was the most well-known, since it’s been plastered all over the TV—“

“That’s not a characteristic.”

”That’s what Elijah said. So then we said it was the shapeliest.”

“Shapeliest?”

“We were drunk and running out of complimentary characteristics, what do you want from us? Billy, do you have to—um—“ A flush crept up Dom’s neck, and Billy’s jaw reflexively clenched. If it was enough to make Dom blush, Billy was pretty sure he really wouldn’t like it. “Do you just have to piss,” he continued quickly, “Or something else? Logistics may be a bit tricky, but—“

“That’s it,” Billy growled. “Get out.”

“Billy—“

“You are not wiping my arse, Dom, do you hear me?” he shouted. “I will manage my bodily functions myself if it bloody well kills me!”

“But—“

“ _I—will—manage_ ,” he ground out.

“If you’re sure—“

“Get out!” A rather relieved looking Dom turned to leave, and Billy had to swallow a bit more of his pride. “Wait.”

Dom turned. “Yeah, Bill?”

“Fucking pants, please,” he muttered, his ears flaming.

“Oh—right. Sorry.” Dom came back over. He lifted the seat on the toilet for Billy, then moved behind him. “Might as well take them right off, yeah? You can come straight into the bedroom, I’ll give you some clean shorts, and you can crawl right on into bed.”

“I’m not wandering around naked,” Billy growled.

“Why, expecting the neighbours to drop in? You were supposed to forget the modesty, remember?” Dom asked with asperity. “Besides, your damn t-shirt’s long enough to mostly cover you anyway. Don’t be difficult.”

“Fine,” Billy groaned. “Would you just get on with it? The pills are starting to kick in and I need to go to bed, Dom.”

Dom’s voice immediately softened. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Bills.” He put his fingers on Billy’s waistband and pushed the material down, keeping his eyes on Billy’s ankles to spare both Billy’s blushes and his own attraction. When the trousers and shorts were pooled on the floor, he murmured, “Step out.” Billy did so, and Dom picked them up to take with him. He turned for the door. “Give us a shout if you need help.”

“Get out,” Billy muttered, and once again his exhaustion was evident in his voice.

Dom left, and was no more than a few steps down the hallway when the door slammed. He couldn’t help but smile.

 

 

Ten minutes later, Dom had swept the glass up and taped the bin liners over the broken window. He used several, and although it did nothing for soundproofing, it did block a fair amount of the light, and between that and the short curtains, it would keep the room fairly dim even at noon. Luckily Billy’s neighbourhood was a relatively quiet one, and he had few close neighbours.

Dom was just starting to get concerned that Billy hadn’t appeared yet when he heard from the bathroom a low shout that was probably his name.

“All right, Bills?” he called back, pulling a clean pair of shorts out of Billy’s dresser.

There was an unintelligible response.

“Do you need me?”

“Door, y’ cunt!” came the mumbled shout.

“Door?” Dom murmured, heading into the hall. “What—oh bugger!” he exclaimed as he realized Billy was trapped in the bathroom. He hurried to the door and quickly opened it. “Well, that’ll teach you to slam—“ He stopped at the sight of Billy collapsed on the tiled floor, quickly knelt beside him. “Bills? What’s wrong?”

Billy raised unfocused eyes to his, almost all pupils. “’M gonna go t’ sleep now, Dom,” he slurred.

“Jesus, those pills have hit you like a freight train, haven’t they, Billy? Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Floor’s cold. ’M not wearin’ any pants.”

Dom chuckled, hoisted him up by the armpits. “I’ve got a pair for you.”

Billy twisted, first one way, then the other, which pulled his t-shirt up and Dom had to focus on his face.

“What—what are you doing, Billy?”

“Y’ called me a…” He twisted again.

“I called you what?”

“Tightarse. ‘M not a tightarse.”

Dom knew he was tired too when his snort turned into giggles he couldn’t stop. “I didn’t call you a tightarse, Billy, I said your arse was tight. You know, as in firm?”

“Oh. Tha’s okay, I guess.” He rotated again, and Dom realized he was actually trying to see his arse, and he began to laugh. “What’re y’ laughin’ at?” Billy asked, an exaggerated frown on his face.

“Nothing, Bills,” he chuckled. “Come on, come with your Dom, and let’s go to bed, yeah?”

“M’ Dom. You’re m’ Dom. I’m your Billy and you’re m’ Dom,” he mumbled.

“Yes, and you’re fucked,” Dom grinned, and began leading him into the hallway.

“’M no’ fucked. No’ fucked.” Billy suddenly snickered. “’S ’at mean ‘m a virgin?”

“Somehow I don’t think so. Oops, easy there, Bills,” he soothed as Billy stumbled.

“M’ legs. M’ legs are gone,” he muttered.

“No, they’re not.”

“Are so. Gone.” His knees wobbled.

“Aw, bloody hell, Bill,” Dom said a bit desperately as he took more and more of Billy’s weight. “I can’t carry you, Billy, just hang in there, we’re almost there.” He managed to manhandle Billy into the bedroom and let him fall on the bed. “Okay, let’s get your shorts on,” he panted.

“No. Shirt off. Smells like hospital,” he mumbled, bandaged right hand pawing at the hem of his jumper.

“Careful, Billy!” Dom yelped, jumping to grip Billy’s wrist and lift his hand away. “You’re going to have to sit up if you want your jumper off.”

“Off. Off. Smells. Hate hospitals.” Billy let Dom pull him upright, work the jumper off his arms and over his head.

“What about your t-shirt?”

“Off. Smells.” His eyes were closed.

Dom swallowed. “You want to sleep in your birthday suit?”

“Yeah. Suit. So tired, Dom. So tired.” Billy slumped forward, face against Dom’s middle.

“Oh, my poor Bills,” Dom said softly, pausing a moment to caress his hair.

“You’re m’ Bills. I’m your Dom,” he hummed into Dom’s stomach.

Dom smiled. “Something like that.” He nudged Billy upright, worked off the t-shirt. “Let’s put your shorts on, Bill.”

“No. Suit.”

“No, you need to wear your shorts, please,” Dom said quietly, looking down at a naked Billy sitting relaxed and unembarrassed in front of him, and he was so beautiful to Dom that he had to swallow, breathe deeply to quell the desire hardening him.

Something in Dom’s voice penetrated the haze clouding Billy’s brain, and he opened his eyes, trying to focus on Dom’s face, frowning. “Why?”

Dom brushed a knuckle along Billy’s jaw and threw caution to the winds, figuring Billy wasn’t going to remember the conversation anyway. “Because I’m more than half in love with you, Bill, and if you’re naked beside me I won’t be able to sleep for wanting to touch you.”

Billy stared up at him, lids heavy over drug-darkened eyes, and he swayed. “Oh. So…” He blinked twice, trying to put together a sentence. “So ‘f I want…’f I want your arm…when I sleep. Need m’ pants.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Pants.”

Dom walked over to the dresser where he’d left the shorts he’d pulled out earlier, returned to Billy and knelt in front of him. He kept his head down as he guided Billy’s feet through, pulled the cotton up to his knees. He got to his feet, resisted the urge that pooled in his abdomen, whispering to lean in for just a taste. “Up you get, Bills.” He gripped Billy’s elbows, hauled him to his feet, steadying him when he weaved. He tugged the shorts into place.

Even that small motion pulled Billy off-balance, and he fell against Dom, his arms going around Dom’s waist as Dom’s hands caught at his shoulders. “Sorry,” he mumbled, then his head landed on Dom’s shoulder like he simply couldn’t hold it up anymore.

“It’s all right, Bills,” Dom said gently. “One step back and I’ll tuck you into bed and you can sleep the day away.”

“Sleep,” he whispered, and Dom thought he was probably nearly asleep already. “Sleep. You.”

“Yes, I’m going to sleep too. Now shut up and lay down.”

Billy dropped his arms, stumbled back to sit on the edge of the bed. “You.”

“I’m coming, Billy,” Dom said clearly. “Lay down.”

“No.” He shook his head like he was moving through treacle.

“God, you’re stubborn,” Dom muttered. “Billy, I have to brush my teeth and take a piss. I’m coming to bed, so lay down and go to sleep.”

“No.” He stayed sitting, swaying slightly.

“Oh, for—“ Dom threw his hands up and walked out of the bedroom. Either Billy would pass out while he was gone, or he was seriously going to force himself to stay awake until Dom returned, in which case he’d better hurry. Not to mention the fact that he was nearly asleep on his feet himself.

After a quick piss and a perfunctory brush of his teeth, Dom wearily returned to the bedroom, stripping off his jumper as he went, only to find Billy leaning up against the wall halfway around the room. He was muttering Dom’s name over and over. Even as Dom started toward him, he pushed himself off the wall with his shoulder, took a few unsteady, shuffling steps, then thumped against the wall again.

Dom hurried over, took his arm. “What are you doing, Billy? Get back to bed.”

“No. Find Dom. Dom lef’ me. Gone days an’ days an’ days,” he mumbled.

“No, I haven’t been, you daft fuckwit,” he said gently. “I’ve been gone three minutes. Come on, come to bed with your Dom.”

“M’ Dom?” Billy looked up and a contented, if somewhat vacant, smile crossed his face. “M’ Dom. Ye came back.”

“Yes, Billy, I came back. I’ll always come back, if you need me.” Dom helped him over to the bed, gently pushed him down. “Scoot back. Don’t use your hands.”

“Why not?” Billy lifted his gauze-wrapped hands to his face and frowned. “Why ‘m I wearin’ mittens?”

“’Cos you hurt your hands, Bill,” Dom said patiently as he changed into the shorts and tank he slept in. “Would you please just fucking lie down already before I brain you with a lamp?”

“Don’ have lamp,” he mumbled, but he awkwardly wriggled in to the centre of the bed.

“Believe me, my shin remembers that fact,” Dom said dryly, and he walked over to flip off the overhead light before returning—very slowly and carefully—to the bed.

He climbed in, making sure Billy was well out of the way, and settled down with a sigh of relief that came all the way from his toes. A moment later he was grunting as a solid, Billy-sized body rolled into him, nearly onto him.

“Dom.”

“Yes, Bills. Watch your hands.”

“’M not gonna feel you up,” he mumbled.

Dom snorted. “Not that, you silly twat. Be careful of your hands, you hurt them, remember?”

“Oh. ‘Kay. Dom. Dom.”

“Yes, Bills.”

“Arm. Gimme your arm.”

Dom put his arm over top of Billy, gently rubbed his back between his shoulder blades. “Better?”

“Tight. Hold tight. Pleasetight.” His voice had weakened to barely more than a whisper.

Dom tightened his arm, wriggled a bit until he could free the other one trapped between them, wrapped it around him as well. “I’ve got you, Bills, I’m not letting go,” he murmured, and kissed his hair.

“Dom. Dom. Dom. Dom,” Billy breathed.

“Shh. Go to sleep, Bills. You’re safe now, it’s all right, you can let yourself go to sleep.”

“Dom.” And then he was out.

Dom followed not long after.

 

 

Hours later, Dom groggily woke to muttering right in his ear. Neither he nor Billy had moved much in their sleep, just rolled slightly apart.

“No. Leave her alone. Leave m’sister alone,” he growled, arms twitching, head tossing on the pillow.

“Billy.” Dom’s voice was deep, sleep-gruff.

“She can’t find on set, get on set. Not ready!” Billy suddenly shouted.

“Shh, Bills,” Dom rasped. “’S all right.”

“Fuck off, Frodo.”

Dom’s laugh rumbled in his chest. He rolled over to lay next to Billy, put a leg over his, laid his head on Billy’s chest. “Shh, Billy. It’s okay,” he murmured roughly, and began rubbing soothing circles on Billy’s chest.

“Camera’s on, Marg,” he muttered. “Camera’s on not ready Marg where are my hands can’t find my hands—“

“Billy. It’s all right, Bills. Margaret’s fine, you’re fine, everything’s okay,” Dom soothed.

“Not ready,” he mumbled.

“Shh. You don’t have to be ready. Come on, Bills, aren’t you going to put your arms around your Dom?” Much to Dom’s surprise, he felt arms creep slowly around him, so he kept up his gentle stream of words. “That’s it, Bills. That’s nice, yeah? Everything’s all right, you hold your Dom, you hold your Dom close. I’m not leaving you, Bills, I’m staying right here.” He kept stroking calming circles on Billy’s chest, felt his arms tighten slightly, and Dom felt the need, knew Billy would probably be crushing the breath out of him if it weren’t for the muscle-relaxing sedative. “Shh. It’s all right, you’re fine.”

“Dom. Dom.”

“Yeah, Bills, I’m right here. You hang on to your Dom, okay? You hold on, and you relax, and you sleep. Go to sleep, Bills, everything’s fine,” he murmured, and kept whispering soothing words.

“Dom,” Billy sighed, and soon was still.

Dom went back to sleep.

 

 

When Dom woke again, it felt much later. He lay still for a few minutes, trying to decide whether to open his eyes and check the clock, or just doze off again. Curiosity won, and he opened his eyes.

The room was quite dim, thanks to the bin liners over the window, but Dom could still see Billy sleeping peacefully next to him, his breathing deep and slow and even, one bandaged hand beside his chin as he lay facing Dom.

A twist and a glance at the clock showed it was just after two-thirty in the afternoon, and Dom knew he wouldn’t be going back to sleep. That was all right—he could go to bed early with Billy tonight. Instead he turned over again, and lay watching him, memorizing him, feeling a profound sense of relief that Billy was finally getting the deep, healing rest he so badly needed. Maybe now, maybe after another solid night of unbroken sleep tonight, maybe he’d be able to face whatever the hell was going on with him, be able to name it and deal with it. Because Dom knew it wasn’t just work, it wasn’t just homesickness, it wasn’t just loneliness, although even that by itself was enough to really fuck you up sometimes. It was all of them and something more, and Dom didn’t know what that something was, didn’t know if Billy knew and hadn’t wanted to talk about it, or if Billy himself didn’t even know. But it was there and it was pinching at him, turning him black and blue and blaming it on everything else.

Dom reached over and lightly, gently ran his hand over Billy’s hair, traced his fingertips down Billy’s cheekbone, along his jaw, down the bridge of his nose, across the peak of his lips. He was confident Billy wouldn’t wake, he’d only been asleep seven or seven and a half hours, so he indulged himself in this rare opportunity to just…touch. He’d touched Billy rather a lot the past few days, but that had all been for comfort, or support, or restraint. Now it was just for the sake—for the pure pleasure—of being able to touch him, and Dom reveled in it. He wasn’t letting himself think about how Billy might feel about him, because it was all too wound up with the comforting right now. It would be hard, but he could and would wait until Billy had sorted himself out and gotten back to normal and could make a clear decision, no matter what that was. But despite all that, despite himself, really, Dom leaned forward and kissed Billy softly on the lips, just so he could know, could feel it, could taste it later. He opened his eyes again, looking at Billy up close, saw the way his eyelashes trembled so slightly on his cheeks, saw the way his hair lay on his forehead, hiding the light dusting of freckles that Dom knew were there. He sighed quietly, pressed one more gentle kiss on Billy’s lips, then climbed out of bed.

Billy’s eyes opened and he groggily watched Dom walk out of the room.

 

 

An hour later, Dom had showered, made coffee, eaten something that was half breakfast and half lunch, every so often going in to check on Billy, who had rolled onto his back and was now softly whistling through his nose.

The next time Dom went in, Billy was awake, rubbing at his eyes with the backs of his bandaged hands.

“Hey,” Dom said softly. “How are you feeling, Billy?”

“Been better,” he rasped, awkwardly wriggling up so he could lean against the headboard.

Dom sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong? Specifically, I mean,” he added at Billy’s look.

“Hands hurt. Head’s…throbbing. Full of cotton wool. So’s my mouth. Have to piss.”

“All right. We can deal with a few of those, anyway. The loo first?”

At Billy’s sluggish nod, Dom pushed the blankets back out of the way for him and waited for him to be ready. Billy sat for a moment, staring at the footboard, then blinked a few times and slowly worked his way out of the bed. Dom let him stand on his own, but quickly grabbed him when he staggered unsteadily.

“Easy there, Bill. Take your time.”

“Don’t have time,” he muttered. “Have to pee.”

“Can I help you?” Dom asked carefully.

“Yeah. T’ get there.”

Dom grinned as he gripped Billy’s upper arm firmly. “Don’t worry, I got the message loud and clear last night. You’re on your own in there.”

“I can piss by myself,” he grumbled.

“Yes, Bill.” They arrived at the bathroom, and Dom ushered him in, then lowered his pants for him. “I’ll pull the door over, but I won’t close it. Need anything, shout. Otherwise give me a yell when you’re done.”

“Go ‘way.”

Dom pulled the door to and left him alone.

 

 

A few minutes later Billy called, and Dom returned to the bathroom to help him, then followed him to the kitchen. He pulled a chair out for him, a hand hovering as Billy ungracefully dropped into it. Dom poured a glass of water, retrieved one of the packets the nurse had brought at the hospital.

“You’ve got painkillers here. They’ll help your hands, hopefully the throbbing in your head, but I doubt it’s going to do the cotton wool situation any good,” Dom warned.

“Don’t care. So I’ll be stupid for a while. Bloody well hurts.”

“All right.” Dom put the first capsule in Billy’s mouth and stood behind him with the water. Billy tipped the glass up, swallowed. Dom put the second one in, Billy tipped the glass up, swallowed, and promptly began choking, coughing hard. “Shit, Bill—“

Billy’s right hand waved rapidly as he coughed.

“Fuck. What do you need Billy?” Dom asked urgently, leaning over so he could see Billy’s face. “Do you need the water?”

Billy nodded hard, eyes watering from coughing.

“Okay, here,” Dom held the glass to Billy’s mouth, tipped it up himself, watched as Billy drank greedily. He didn’t quite pull the glass away in time when Billy opened his mouth to suck in air, and water spilled down his chin, over his chest, wet his boxers. “Shit. Sorry, Billy. Sorry.” He grabbed a towel, dried Billy’s chest and chin, as he coughed, gasped. “Jesus, Bill, are you all right?” He worriedly watched as Billy tried to catch his breath.

Billy nodded again, less insistently, finally managing with a rough voice to say, “Pill caught halfway down.”

“Fuck. Sorry, Billy. You had me scared there for a second.” Dom sat back on his heels, looking up at him.

“Not your fault. Just got stuck.” He swallowed a few times, then asked, “C’n I please have some more water?”

“Of course.” Dom straightened up, refilled the glass, and held it for him while Billy drank what he wanted.

Billy sat quite still for a few minutes then, seemingly marshalling his resources, before giving Dom a weary smile and saying, “Well, woke me up a little, at least.”

Dom smiled back at him. “Woke me up, too. Shall we get you dressed, Bill?”

Billy shrugged. “Why bother? Only going t’ have to—to undress me again in a few hours.”

“Well, if you really want to greet Fran wearing wet boxer shorts—“

“Fran?”

“Yeah. She’s coming over to talk to you, remember?”

“Oh, Christ, Dom,” he groaned. “Not today.”

“Yes, today. Sorry, Billy, but you promised you’d talk to her today.”

“Yeah, but that was before _this_ ,” Billy held up his hands.

“ _That_ makes it even more important,” Dom said firmly. “Besides, I promised Dr. Moira. I swore to her you were going to be talking to someone about all this today, you don’t want me to break my word, do you?”

“Ah, fuck. I promised her too,” Billy recalled. “But she’ll never know, Dom—“

Dom crossed his arms over his chest. “No, but you’ll know, and I’ll know.”

”I can’t fuckin’ think straight,” he grumbled. “How am I s’posed t’ talk to Fran about anything when I can’t even think straight?”

“You’ll manage. You can have some coffee. You don’t have to be eloquent, Bills. Now come on, let’s get you dressed, she’ll be on her way over by now.”

“What?” Billy moaned. “You want me t’ do this _now_?”

“There isn’t exactly a whole lot of today left, and she has the kids to get home to this evening.”

“But I haven’t even had anything t’ eat yet, Dom!”

“I know,” he said soothingly, trying to keep Billy on a slightly more even keel. “I’m going to make you something, and Fran can help you with it while I’m gone.”

“What d’ you mean gone? Where’re you going?”

“Relax, Billy, I won’t be long. I have to get your prescriptions filled and get the stuff to change your dressings. Every day, remember?”

Billy looked at him. Looked away. Quietly said, “Y’ never signed on t’ be a fuckin’ nurse.”

“I did, actually.” Dom smiled at him. “Several times, in fact. I want to help you, Billy. I’ll do whatever you need, I said that before and I still mean it. Now come on, or you’ll be answering the door in your skivvies.”

“Dom, wait—“

He turned to look at Billy, eyebrows raised.

“Thank you, Dom. For doing—“

Rolling his eyes, Dom cut him off. “Quit thanking me every half hour, Bills, you’re getting repetitive. Save your applause for the end, yeah?”

The corners of Billy’s mouth lifted. “All right. But I’ll still be—be thinking it every half hour.”

“Don’t waste your brain power. Just think of me as your own personal cabana boy, here to cater to your every whim. Now would you get off your lazy arse and come get dressed?”

“That’s fine lang—lan—talk for a cabana boy. You’ll get yourself fired from the…the resort for talking like that, y’ know.” Billy got to his feet, slowly made his way to the bedroom with Dom following closely behind. “Cabana boy, take m’ order. I want peeled grapes and mango slices and—and pineapple with little…y’ know, paper things. Pair of something.”

“Parasols?”

“That’s the one. And champagne.”

“Yes sir, right away sir,” Dom whined obsequiously. “Would you like green grapes or red grapes, sir?”

“Green. I’ll be kind to you—easier t’ peel.” Billy sat on the edge of the bed.

“Oh, yes sir, thank you sir, too good to me, sir, would you like jeans or trackies with your mango, sir?”

Billy sighed, unable to keep up the banter, as reassuring and comforting as it was. “Trackies. Jeans too difficult.”

“Whatever you want, Bills.”

“Trackies.”

Dom found another pair in Billy’s dresser and brought them over along with clean, dry shorts and a large t-shirt. “Ready?”

Billy grunted and got to his feet. When Dom hooked his fingers into the waistband of Billy’s damp boxers, Billy flushed a little, then turned around until he was facing away from Dom.

Dom smoothly continued on, sliding them quickly down Billy’s legs. “Step out.”

Billy stepped out, one foot at a time.

Dom tossed the shorts to the side and grabbed the clean pair off the bed. “Step in.”

It took Billy a minute to get each foot in the proper place. Balance and coordination were more than a little hampered by the drugs in his system, and when he nearly staggered, Dom automatically put a hand on Billy’s waist to steady him. His fingers wrapped over Billy’s hipbone, and neither heard the other’s soft but sudden intake of breath.

When Billy’s feet were through, Dom pulled the boxers up, then made quick work of the track pants and t-shirt. “Socks, Billy?”

“No. Jus’ turn the heat up a bit.”

Dom looked at him curiously. “Why not just put socks on?”

“Because I’ve had…enough for now.”

“Enough socks?”

“Enough of having t’ be dressed like a…a baby, you wanker,” Billy said quietly, and sure enough when Dom looked at him closely he could see the tell-tale vein throbbing in his temple.

“I don’t mi—“

“I know y’ don’t mind, Dom. Know y’ don’t, an’ that helps. But it’s still—still frustrating as hell.”

“All right.” Dom nodded. “Coffee?”

“Please.” Billy headed back to the kitchen.

“If your feet get cold, just call your cabana boy,” Dom said casually, getting a mug from the cupboard. “He can fetch some socks for you.”

“Poor cabana boy. He’s going t’ be…abused the next few days,” Billy said a little distractedly.

“That’s what he gets paid for.” Dom poured the coffee, brought it over to where Billy sat at the table. “Cream and sugar, right?”

“Yes, please. He should…ehm…ask for a raise.”

Dom grinned. “Oh, he’ll make sure he’s well compensated, don’t worry.”

Billy opened his mouth, but went completely blank. He stared at Dom.

“I’m sorry, Bills,” Dom said quietly, with a little shake of his head. “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting your brain’s not on top form today. You’ve been doing so well you’ve made me forget.”

The front doorbell rang. Dom gripped Billy’s shoulder tightly on his way past, murmuring, “Be right back.”

Billy looked at his cup of coffee sitting in the middle of the table and tried not to shout in his frustration. He hooked his wrist around it and carefully pulled it over, hissing through his teeth when the coffee slopped over the side and onto the tender skin on the inside of his arm. He knew he was lucky there was cream in it, or it likely would have burned. After licking the coffee off his wrist, he bent his head over and slurped out of the mug.

“I think we can do better than that,” Fran’s voice said lightly from behind him. Her black-clad arm reached around him and dropped a straw into his mug, and slim fingers bent the top portion over. “Give that a try.”

Billy dutifully bent his head and sipped through the straw; it was indeed much easier, and he’d be able to drink more than just the top fifth of the coffee. Fran dropped an entire package of the straws on the table.

When he straightened up again and her arms looped loosely around his neck, Billy realized he hadn’t even greeted her yet. “Hi, Fran.”

She kissed the top of his head, then quietly said, “Hello, Billy darling.”

He awkwardly said, “The drugs’re makin’ me a bit stupid today, ’m afraid.”

“It’s all right.” Fran tightened her arms, and Billy leaned back into her. “It’s all right, love,” she said again.

“It’s kind of not, Frannie. I don’ know why, but it’s not,” he said, his voice low.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Not—not quite yet. Soon. I need—I need…” he trailed off.

“What do you need, Billy?” she asked softly.

Dom walked in just in time to hear Fran’s question. He cheerfully said, “I bet you could use some food, yeah Bills? Been a long time since dinner yesterday, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Billy agreed with a tinge of relief. “’M hungry.”

Fran laughed lightly, let go of Billy to sit with him at the table and look at him for the first time. She hid her dismay at his pallor, the dark shadows under his eyes, the pinched look around his mouth.

“Do you know what you’d like?” Dom asked him. “Eggs? Soup? Beef Wellington?”

“I was thinkin’ haggis,” Billy smiled lopsidedly.

“If you think I’m cooking that horror, you’re mad.”

“Whatever’s easy. I—I don’ know.”

“Porridge?” Dom asked, wondering if he’d like a bit of comfort food. He was a little taken aback when Billy flatly said, “No.” Dom saw the vein in his temple again and cursed himself for suggesting Billy be spoon-fed cereal. He racked his brain for something else. “How about a ham and cheese sandwich?”

Billy nodded tersely.

Dom stood beside him. “You sure? Whatever you want, Bills—except haggis.”

Billy let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and looked up at Dom. “I’m sure. Ham ‘n’ cheese sounds good.” He belatedly added, “Thanks.”

Dom smiled down at him and briefly rubbed his shoulder. “You got it.”

Fran watched the exchange with discreet interest.

 

 

Once Billy’s lunch was made, Dom quietly, privately asked him if he needed anything else, because Dom would likely be gone an hour or more. Billy thought of the coffee he’d drunk, the second cup he was about to have, and nodded. When they returned from the bathroom, Fran sat Billy down and began helping him eat, and Dom slipped quietly out.

 

 

Dom took his time, not rushing, knowing he needed a bit of a break from worrying over Billy, knowing Billy was in capable hands. But when he realized, as he finished up at the supermarket, that he’d already been gone an hour and a half, he made a quick stop on the way back for dinner and returned to Billy’s.

He entered quietly, not knowing where they might be, and snuck through to the kitchen with his purchases, returning a moment later with the last few bags and the pizza.

Dom finally poked his head into the living room, but there was no sign of Fran or Billy. He tiptoed down the hallway, assuming Billy had gotten tired and Fran helped him to bed, but the bedroom was also empty. The bathroom stood open and dark. Dom started to worry. Had Fran taken him somewhere? Surely she would have left Dom a note—but no, her car had still been in the drive. Where the hell could they have gone?

And then Dom remembered the tiny back garden out behind the house. Sure enough, when he went to the door off the kitchen that he always forgot was there, he saw Billy pacing around the small lawn, Fran walking beside him, her elbow tucked in his. Dom could see the tension in Billy’s shoulders, saw the occasional little stumble, knew by the way he kept rubbing at his eyes with his forearm that the drugs were still wreaking havoc with his concentration.

Billy and Fran turned back toward the house then, and when Billy tripped and almost went down, Dom nearly went rushing out. But Fran was stronger than she appeared, not a surprise with two small children to carry about, and she held him up with the elbow linked through his. They continued pacing about, and Billy kept his head down, but Fran glanced up at the house and saw Dom through the door. He held up Billy’s pills, the antibiotics he needed to take soon. Casually, so she wouldn’t break Billy’s fragile train of thought, she nodded.

To keep himself from fretting, Dom decided to take care of some chores that needed doing. He put a small load of laundry in Billy’s tiny washing machine, including the clothes Billy had worn to the hospital that morning. He retrieved the blood-encrusted t-shirts from the tub where he had tossed them while cleaning up Billy’s hands. They were so badly discoloured Dom doubted even bleach would completely eradicate the brown stains, so he simply threw them out, making a mental note to buy Billy a couple of new t-shirts when he bought towels to replace the two abandoned at the hospital. He inspected the bedroom window, making sure the tape was still holding the bin liners in place; Billy would not be impressed if they came down and he woke up in the morning with insects crawling on his bed.

Dom was in the kitchen washing up the dishes and mugs from earlier when Fran and Billy finally came back in. Billy’s face was lined and drawn and he looked older than his nearly thirty-two years as he shed the slip-on sandals Fran had found for him and disappeared without a word. Fran watched him go, looking pensive.

“Is he heading to the bathroom?” Dom asked, and when Fran nodded, Dom followed Billy down the hall.

Billy was already in the bathroom when Dom got there, and had flipped the light on and was trying with increasing frustration to push down his waistbands with the backs of his hands.

Dom quietly said, “Billy. Let me.” Billy balked, but after a second let his hands drop. Dom pushed his trousers down for him, then his shorts, and murmured, “I’ll be right outside when you’re done.” He left Billy alone, closing the door over behind him. Looking at his watch, Dom was surprised to see it was already dinner time. He wondered if Fran was finished talking to Billy, or if they’d only come in for Billy’s visit to the loo.

“Dom.” Billy’s voice was low, but it carried around the door.

He went back in, set Billy’s clothes to rights, let him reach forward and press the handle with his wrist. As the toilet flushed, Billy turned and walked out, Dom following behind. Billy started to head into the living room, but Dom said, “Can you come take your antibiotics? You should get another dose in you yet today.”

Billy didn’t answer, but he did walk into the kitchen where Fran still sat at the table, and wordlessly sat beside her.

Dom shook out two of the pills. “They’re pretty big, Billy. Can you get enough water through the straw, or do you want the glass?”

Billy looked at the tablets and said, “Glass.”

“All right.” Dom poured the water, stood behind him, held the glass up, popped one pill in Billy’s mouth, and let him direct the glass with the back of his hand. This time Dom waited until both pills were safely down before taking the glass away.

Fran smiled. “You two are a good team. Merry and Pippin indeed.”

Billy was about to get up when Dom put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s change your dressings, Bill. I don’t know what I’m doing, so maybe Fran can help me, yeah?”

“Would that be all right, Billy?” she asked, leaving the decision to him.

Billy nodded readily enough and put his hands on the table.

Dom fetched the gauze and tape he’d bought, tore open the package of sterile pads. With scissors, he cut the tape on Billy’s right hand and unwound it, then very carefully lifted the pad off his palm.

He swallowed hard and went pale, staring at the tiny black stitches that sewed Billy’s skin together.

Billy looked up at him and frowned. “Dom?”

“Ehm—yeah.” He swallowed again, and sat abruptly when Fran quickly pushed a chair behind him.

“All right, Dom?” she softly asked.

“What?” He tore his eyes from Billy’s black-spidered palm. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. I can do this,” he muttered.

Billy was watching him. “Needlepoint makes you nauseous. Y’ weren’t joking at all.”

Dom shamefacedly met his eyes. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? Mum swears I was adopted.”

Taken out of his own worries momentarily, Billy gave him a little smile. “Poor Dom.”

“Shall I finish up?” Fran asked kindly.

Dom shook his head and took a deep breath. “No. I’m going to have to do this tomorrow anyway.” He forced himself to look at Billy’s hand, to study the skin around the stitches. “Doesn’t look red, does it Fran?”

“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed.

Dom put a fresh sterile pad over the injuries and picked up the roll of gauze. With Fran’s instruction and at one point a helpful anchoring finger, Dom did a credible job of rewrapping Billy’s hand, going from fingertips to wrist like they’d done at the hospital, and wrapping several thicknesses around to help prevent him from being able to bend his hand much at all. “Does that feel all right?” he asked, uncertain. “Not too tight?”

Billy shook his head. “’S all right.”

Dom took the scissors to Billy’s left bandage. He took a deep, fortifying breath before lifting the pad.

“Easy, Dom,” Billy said quietly, watching him closely, knowing this one was going to look worse.

Dom glanced down, looked away with pinched nostrils.

Billy inspected his hand himself. “Did she say ‘f it was red today, or _after_ today, I should get it—get it looked at?”

Dom still hadn’t looked back. “After. Is it red?”

“A little, yeah.”

Fran calmly said, “That’s not a surprise for such a nasty cut. What did they say about this hand, Billy?”

“Can’t use it for…umm—a week. Lots of stitches, too.” Dom made a little noise, and Billy actually chuckled, albeit weakly. “Sorry, Dom.”

“No. It’s all right,” he forced out.

“No permanent damage?” Fran asked.

“Not ’f I’m careful. I—I dunno how long it’ll be ‘fore I c’n use it. Might be two weeks. ‘M sorry, Frannie,” he finished on a whisper.

Fran reached out to caress his cheek. “I told you, Billy, none of that. We can work it out. At worst, we’ll need you back a little earlier than the others for pickups, that’s all. You and Dom have the week to rest, recuperate, and work on things, all right? We’ll see where we’re at next Sunday.”

Dom had looked up in surprise. “But I don’t need—“

Fran cut him off, the look in her eyes telling him she would discuss it with him, but not in front of Billy. “Let’s get Billy’s hand finished, shall we?”

Dom opened his mouth, then closed it again. He picked up a sterile pad, wrapped his feet tightly around the legs of his chair, and looked at Billy’s palm. He pressed his lips together, breathed quickly through his nose, and took careful note of the redness surrounding what had been the deepest cut, noticed despite himself that the stitches were smaller and much closer together. And then he hid the view with the pad and picked up the gauze with slightly trembling fingers. Fran helped him wrap it and tape it firmly.

“All right, Dom?” Billy asked quietly.

Dom met his eyes and gave him a tremulous smile. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah. Dom…”

“Yes, Billy?”

Billy tried to find the right words, but they just wouldn’t string together properly. He settled for, “Thanks, mate.”

“Thought I told you to save it?”

“This is…diff’rent.”

Dom got up from the table and unabashedly dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

Fran smiled fondly at her two hobbits. “Billy, why don’t you go relax on the sofa for a bit? I’ll help Dom tidy up here.”

“All right. Could someone come turn on the—ehm, th’ thing…”

“Yeah. Come on, Bills.” Dom followed him out to the living room, and while Billy slouched wearily into the sofa Dom turned on the satellite and the TV and flipped through the channels until Billy saw something he wanted to watch. “You take it easy, Billy. I’ll bring dinner when I come back.”

“’Kay. You’re a good cabana boy,” he mumbled.

Dom returned to the kitchen and sat across the table from Fran. “What’s with the week off?”

Her brown eyes looked at him warmly. “It’s for several reasons. The first of which is that it will make rescheduling easier. We weren’t prepared to shoot Merry on his own right now. If we scramble, we could do it. Or, we could postpone the both of you and use the crew and cameras elsewhere, and that’s what Peter has decided to do, so he can catch up on two other scenes that fell behind-schedule.”

“Well, at least we’re not the only ones screwing up filming,” Dom muttered.

Fran took his hands across the table. “You need to stop worrying about it, Dominic,” she said firmly. “You’re underestimating us rather badly if you think we believed we could shoot three films at once and never have to adjust the schedule.”

Dom looked up at that, and slowly nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

She smiled fondly at him. “The other main reason, of course, which I only fully understood after talking to him, is that Billy needs you.”

”Yeah, it’s surprising how many things you need at least your fingers for.”

“I don’t mean you looking after him, although he obviously needs that too. And so far you seem to be managing admirably. You’re proving yourself very capable indeed, young Dominic.”

“It’s—it’s a bit hard.” Dom hesitated, looked down at Fran’s hands still clasped around his. “But—then what did you mean?”

She tightened her fingers and gently said, “Billy needs you, love. He’s looking to you, he’s trusting you for strength while his is lacking. You’re his…you’re a strong, steady raft in the rough water he’s swimming through right now. He needs to talk to someone, and I’m more than happy to listen if needed, but I think you’d understand best.”

Dom stared at her. “But—how do I…?”

“You don’t need to do anything but what you have been. Be there for him, reassure him, let him draw what he needs from you. All you need to do is care.”

Dom’s eyes dropped, and he cursed his expressive ears as they turned pink.

Fran watched him. “You do, don’t you?”

Dom nodded.

“Does he know?”

Dom nodded again, muttered, “Told him I’d wait until all this is over. I—I surprised him.”

Fran chuckled. “You’ll surprise a few people, honey.”

He snorted. “No doubt.”

“Dom, look at me.” She waited until his eyes reluctantly met hers. “Billy is going to be taking a lot from your calmness, your steadfastness. If _you_ need anything, be sure you get it. Call me, call your fellow hobbits, but take care of yourself too. You won’t help Billy in the long run if you wind up exhausted yourself. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good. All right, I should get on home.” Fran got to her feet. “Shall I have someone round tomorrow to fix the window?”

“That would be great. I was just going to close my eyes and take a stab in the phone book. Listen, can I give you a bite to eat before you go? We’ve got pizza.”

“No thanks, honey. Call me tomorrow and let me know how it’s going, will you? Maybe later this week you could bring Billy ‘round for a visit. And if you need anything at all, call day or night.”

Dom stood too, and was a little surprised when Fran pulled him into a tight hug. “Thanks, Frannie.”

“You’re a good lad, Dominic Monaghan.” She pulled back to cup his face in her hands. “Billy’s very lucky to have you. And I think he’ll come to see that.”

Dom’s throat tightened, and he dropped his eyes.

Fran smiled and pulled him down to kiss his forehead. “Talk to you tomorrow, Dom. Take care.” She let him go and walked out of the kitchen.

Dom heard her say goodbye to Billy, heard him quietly respond, and then the front door opened and closed and he and Billy were alone again. He opened the pizza box and put a few slices on a plate, warming them up in the microwave, and leaned against the counter with his eyes closed to try and regain his composure. Fran had really thrown him. The thought of Billy telling him he felt—God, Dom had fallen so hard, much harder than even he had thought, and even as he realized he honestly would do anything for Billy, he wasn’t sure how he was going to spend every waking moment—and every sleeping one, too—in constant contact, and not kiss him. Not touch every inch of his body. Not press up against him and feel him harden—

Dom groaned and opened his eyes, straightened up and yanked open the microwave.

“Dom?” Billy’s voice drifted in from the living room.

“Yeah, Billy?” Dom forced his voice to be even.

“You all right?”

“Just fine. Would you like a drink?”

“Coke?”

“You got it.” Dom poured a glass, put a straw in it, and carried it and the pizza out to the living room.

Billy was slumped on the sofa, looking pale and wan and sluggish.

“How are you, Bills?” Dom asked kindly as he set Billy’s glass on the coffee table in front of him, then pulled the table closer. He sat beside him, the plate on his lap.

“’M all right. I feel—I feel—“ He stopped, lost.

“Are you in any pain?”

“No. Stupid.”

Dom’s forehead wrinkled. “Sorry.”

“No, no, no.” Billy rubbed Dom’s arm with the back of a bandaged hand. “Me. I feel stupid. See?”

Dom chuckled. “Oh. Yeah, I see. You’ll be fine, it’s just the drugs. As long as you’re not in any pain, that’s the main thing. Are you hungry?”

“Smells good,” Billy nodded.

For the next half hour, Dom alternated between feeding Billy and feeding himself, and between them they polished off almost the entire pizza. Finally Billy slouched back into the corner and belched. “’Scuse me.”

Dom laughed and belched himself. “Sign of a good meal, that is. Downright rude not to offer your hosts a good loud burp in some countries, did you know that?”

“Is not.”

”Is too,” Dom protested.

“Where?”

“Well—I can’t remember. But I know I read it somewhere.”

Billy snorted, but before he could manage a response, the phone rang. He automatically began to get up, then sighed and sank back down.

“Want me to get that, Bill?”

“You’re goin’ t’ have to, aren’t you?” he said tetchily.

Dom got up, answered it on the fourth ring. “Hello.”

“Dom? Dom, it’s Elijah. What’s going on, is everything all right?” he demanded.

“Everything’s fine, Elijah.” Dom looked over at Billy, who was frowning and already starting to shake his head. “Hold on one second, okay, ‘Lij?” He covered the phone tightly with his hand. “Billy? Billy—“ He waited until he had Billy’s attention. “They’re going to know about your hands as soon as they see you. But I can change the details, if you want.”

“I don’ want—this is—don’t tell them,” he suddenly insisted. “Don’t tell them what happened, don’t, Dom, just you, I don’ want—“

“Okay, Bills,” Dom nodded. “It’s all right, I won’t tell them. I’ll make up a good story, yeah? They don’t need to know.”

Still agitated, Billy nodded, pulled his feet up onto the sofa as Dom uncovered the phone.

“So how’re things, ‘Lij?” he asked cheerfully.

“Fine. What’s going on, Dom? No one has seen or heard from you or Billy since Saturday, and now we hear today the schedule’s been changed and you two are off this week? What the hell?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Elwood. They changed the schedule because they decided it would be silly to film me separately from Billy now, but still have to film Billy _and_ Billy and I together later, that’s all. You’re just jealous because we get a whole week off.”

Elijah snorted, “Well, duh. Of course I am, asshole. Now quit fucking around and tell me why Billy can’t film.”

Dom shrugged resignedly at Billy. “He just had a little accident surfing—“

“Jesus—“

“He’s fine, Elijah. He just cut his hands on—on some coral.” Dom made a ‘pulled that one out of the fire, didn’t I’ face, and Billy relaxed slightly.

“He _what_? How the hell did he manage that?”

“Who knows?” Dom said breezily. “He’s got a real talent for the bizarre, does our Billy. Anyway, it’s going to be a few days before he can hold his sword, so they gave him some time off to heal. I’m just helping him out a bit.”

“You sure he’s all right?” Elijah asked suspiciously. “It’s not like Billy to miss work for a few cuts—“

“Not just cuts—stitches and everything.”

“Jesus, that sucks.”

“Nah, Billy’s chuffed,” Dom grinned over at him. “Now he’s got a tale of pain and suffering and pathos to go up against Vig and Orli with.”

Billy rolled his eyes as Elijah finally laughed. “Yeah, stitches beat a stupid bruised rib any day.”

“Oh, these are really good stitches.” Dom made a gagging motion that made Billy snicker. “They’ll even hold their own against Viggo’s broken toe.”

“Wow, what’d he do, a fucking _handstand_ on the coral?”

“Something like that. Probably showing off for the fish.”

Billy held up his hand with a distinctive jerk that told Dom if his fingers could move, they’d be flipping him off.

“Listen,” Elijah was saying, “Why don’t Orli and I drop by and keep you guys company?”

“Ah, not tonight, mate—but thanks. Billy’s on some painkillers that have got him pretty kippered. He’ll probably be asleep by eight-thirty.” Dom turned away from Billy.

“Oh. All right. Well, maybe another night, then, if we’re not stuck on set too late.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Dom said non-committally.

“Well, say hi to Billy. Tell him he’s a crazy fucker for managing that one,” Elijah laughed.

“I will—and thanks for calling, ‘Lij.” Dom hung up the phone and turned again to find Billy standing right behind him. “Bill—what’s up? You need something?”

“I’m sorry, Dom.”

Dom frowned. “For what?”

“You lied. I made you lie,” he said unhappily. “You don’ like to tell lies. ‘M sorry, Dom.”

“Don’t be a silly git,” Dom smiled at him. “No one needs to know the details unless you choose to tell them.”

“’M sorry, Dom.”

“Don’t be.” Dom pulled him into a hug, but after a moment Billy yanked away, breathing sharply through his nose. “What?” he asked.

“I can’t. ‘M all—up an’ down. I can’t—I can’t—“

“Can’t what, Bills?”

“Can’t control it. Don’t y’ see? Can’t fucking control it. Pisses me off, Dom,” he managed, his voice strangled.

“You’re just exhausted, and drugged to the gills. Don’t fret if you can’t control your emotions for the next day or two. Let ‘em rip.” Dom pulled him back into the hug, and leaned up against the wall. “Up or down, shouts or tears. You’ve got some time and space, Billy, for whatever happens. Whatever you need.”

“Not space from you,” Billy muttered, forehead against Dom’s neck, nose against his collarbone, and bandaged hands resting against his own chest.

“Not unless you want it.”

“Don’t. Don’ want it.”

Dom smiled. “You say that now. Give it a couple days, you’ll be so sick of me you’ll be wishing me on the other island.”

“Don’ go. Don’ go, Dom.” His arms fell to Dom’s waist.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving.”

“’M such a fucking jessie,” he mumbled. “You got older.”

Dom scrunched his eyes up, trying to figure that one out, but to no avail. “I got older?”

“’N me. Like you’re older ‘n me.” He sagged against Dom wearily.

“Easy, Billy. What, you mean because I’m taking care of you?”

“I’m fuckin’ whingeing ‘bout not bein’ left alone. Worse ‘n a…a bloody wee kiddie. What th’ fuck’s wrong with me?”

Dom tightened his arms. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you, Billy. You’re just tired, and hurt, and whacked out on some really heavy-duty drugs, and we all need a little looking after from time to time.” He smiled, leaned his head on Billy’s. “Just you wait until the next time I have ‘flu. _Then_ you’ll see whingeing.”

“So fuckin’ _needy_ ,” he muttered angrily, turning his face further into Dom’s neck. “I hate it. ‘S not me. I’m not needy. I’m not.”

“I know you’re not, Billy,” Dom said softly. “I know. But everybody needs a little coddling sometimes. Relax. Don’t worry about it. Let me take care of you, coddle you, no one else ever needs to know. Enjoy it. Let it…you know, comfort you. If you need a hug, let me hug you. If you need to weep, weep, and I’ll hold you ‘til it’s over and I’ll even blow your nose for you. If you need a bit of a cuddle, let me cuddle you. Whatever you need, Billy, I want you to have it.”

Billy was trembling. “Don’t. Don’ do that—“ Then he was shaking.

“It’s all right,” Dom murmured. “Let it go, Bills.”

Billy began to weep, huge sobs that wracked his whole body, and Dom held on tightly, whispering meaningless tender words into his hair.

It didn’t last long, like a cloudburst arriving with a vengeance but moving on in minutes, leaving Billy limp and worn out, snuffling against Dom’s wet neck. Dom kept one arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his other hand rubbing up and down Billy’s back, and he fell silent, letting Billy catch his breath. After a few minutes, Dom pushed off the wall, standing himself and Billy upright, and with an arm still around his shoulders Dom walked him back over to the sofa, watching as Billy sank down, leaning his elbows on his knees and letting his head hang down. Dom threaded his fingers into Billy’s hair, silently resting his hand on Billy’s head for a moment. Then he left him just long enough to fetch a tissue from the kitchen. When he returned, he sat beside Billy and quietly, warmly said, “Heads up, Bill. Give me your nose.”

“No.”

“Come on, it’ll be painless, I promise. I won’t even make funny noises.”

“No.”

Dom sighed loudly. “You’re one stubborn twat, you know that? What did I say not five minutes ago?”

“I know, but—“

“No buts. Give me your fucking nose, you wanker.”

Billy raised his head, flushing bright red, the vein in his temple throbbing visibly. When Dom held the tissue to his nose, he blew hard, waited for Dom to swipe his nose dry, and then he pulled away, retreating into the corner of the sofa.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything, Billy. Okay?”

Billy nodded jerkily.

“Billy.”

He tried to resist, but couldn’t help it. He looked up at Dom.

“Try and relax, all right?” Dom said gently. “Please?”

Billy took a deep breath and unclenched his jaw, lowered his shoulders from around his ears, and muttered, “Okay.”

“Good man. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

It was nearly a quarter of an hour before Dom returned to the living room, a plate in one hand and a glass in the other, and he held the plate high so Billy couldn’t see what was on it from where he sat absently watching TV.

“Your cabana boy returns,” Dom announced grandly. “I grovelingly apologize, sir, for the length of time it took for your order to arrive, sir, and please be assured, sir, that your order is on the house, sir.” He lowered the plate to where a confused and frowning Billy could see it.

Billy looked at the green grapes, the thick slices of mango, and the chunks of fresh pineapple each with its own paper umbrella, and it took a moment to register, for him to remember. When he did, his face split into a sudden, sunny smile, miles from the cloudburst not long ago; Dom saw clearly what he meant by up and down. “Y’ mad bugger. You daft…bloody lunatic.”

Dom grinned. “It’s the itty bitty brollies that really make it special, in my opinion. And this,” he set the glass down on the coffee table, the straw already bent toward Billy, “is as close as you’re getting to champagne, I’m afraid.”

“What is it?” Billy asked, even as he leaned over to take a sip.

“Just sparkling water. I wanted sparkling grape juice, but they didn’t carry it.” Dom sat on the sofa beside Billy. “So do you forgive your cabana boy for taking such a horrendously long time with your order?”

Billy gave him a little laugh, and it warmed Dom to hear it and he couldn’t help but chuckle back. “I dunno, cabana boy. Why aren’t th’ grapes…ehm…what th’ fuck’s the word…peeled?”

“Ah, but if you look closely—“ Dom held the plate closer to Billy so he could see, “—that top one _is_ peeled.”

“Just one?” Billy’s eyebrow lifted.

“Have you ever tried to peel grapes, Bill?” Dom demanded.

“Ehm—no. Can’t say I have.”

“It’s really bloody hard! And they’re slippery as hell, too,” he grumbled.

Billy laughed out loud. “How many’d you lose?”

“Four. One hit the sodding window.”

Billy laughed again, and the sound was so cheerful that Dom just looked at him, smiling, realizing how very much he’d missed that infectious sound. Billy’s cheeks turned a bit pink. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then what’s with th’—the…” He waved a white-wrapped hand toward Dom’s face. “Glaikit smile?”

“The _what_?”

“Glaikit. Y’ know—“ Billy’s mouth twisted in annoyance, although he hadn’t yet lost his sudden good mood. He groaned. “Augh! Why th’ hell can I remember glaikit, and not…not…idiotic!” he suddenly shouted, then grinned in relief. “Idiotic.”

“I keep telling you, it’s just the drugs,” Dom waved it off easily. “Besides, I always like learning a foreign language.”

“Wanker.”

“Nope, that one I know already.”

Billy leaned to the side and kicked Dom lightly in the shin, then frowned when Dom grunted and winced. “What? I didn’t—I would’ve hit y’ harder than that, ‘cept I can’t. Hit you. I’m sorry. What?”

Dom chuckled. “Bill, you’re nattering. You just caught my bruise, that’s all.”

“Bruise? What’d y’ do?”

“What did I do? You don’t remember me nearly amputating my leg on your bloody bedrail?”

Billy’s brow furrowed. “No, I—oh. Wait. I got you an icepack.”

“Now you’ve got it. I have to say, you’re not a very sympathetic bloke, Bills,” Dom teased him. “Called me a whingeing jessie.”

“I kissed it better, y’ don’t get much more syp—syth—sympathetic than that!” he protested, his tongue not keeping up with him.

“That’s true. That was kind of nice.”

Suddenly Billy’s eyes widened. He unsteadily said, “I—I kissed it better…”

Dom knew he remembered that last, sensual kiss. He gently said, “That was kind of nice, too.”

All Billy could do was stare at him.

The sudden tension, even if it wasn’t hideously uncomfortable, was enough to make Dom drop his eyes, knowing he couldn’t trust any expression on Billy’s face because the drugs had him arse over tit. Instead he took a deep breath, picked up a piece of pineapple speared on a blue paper umbrella, and looked up again, saying, “Here, try this—“

Billy kissed him.

Just briefly, very lightly, soft and dry and warm on the lips, and it may have been brief, but nevertheless it was a kiss.

Billy. Kissed _him_.

Dom made a tiny sound of surprise, then quickly reined in the joy that threatened to blossom inside him, all riotous colour and scent and warm summer sun, like Samwise’s garden abloom in his chest. Just the fucking drugs, he sternly told himself, and set the mantra on continuous loop. Just the fucking drugs. Just the fucking drugs just the fucking drugs just the goddamn fucking drugs.

Billy sat back, staring at Dom’s mouth. “I just kissed you,” he whispered.

Dom cleared his throat, carefully said, “Yes, Billy, you did. And it was quite lovely.”

“It was…lovely,” he repeated, and then his confused eyes met Dom’s. “I shouldn’t do that t’ you, should I?”

“Probably best not to for a bit,” Dom agreed. “Not until you’re feeling more the thing, yeah?” His heart plummeted, though, at his own words, fell like Wile E. Coyote through a cloud. He blinked, wondering where the hell the Looney Tunes image had come from.

“I’m sorry, Dom. I’ll try to—t’ remember. Don’t want…really, _really_ don’t want t’ hurt you,” Billy said slowly, and of its own volition his hand moved to Dom’s thigh, petted him with the back. “I—God, y’ know I…I care ‘bout you, Dom. You’re m’ Dom. But I can’t tell. The drugs, y’ know? I can’t even remember words like…like…” he floundered.

Dom gently picked Billy’s wrist up, moving the hand petting him away from its position perilously close to his crotch. “I know, Bills. It’s all right. No offense, but I don’t believe a word you say, and I won’t until the meds are out of your system.”

“But—but you’re m’ Dom,” Billy said worriedly. “Y’ believe that, right? You’re my Dom. You are. You’re m’ Dom.”

Dom smiled at him. “All right. _That_ one I’ll believe. Billy?”

“Yeah, Dom. Yeah. I mean—what? Yeah?” His forehead wrinkled.

“I worked hard cutting all this effing fruit up. You want to shut up long enough to eat some of it?”

Billy blinked. “All right.”

Dom chuckled. “Here. Have some pineapple.” He held it up, let Billy pull it off the wooden pick with his teeth, and then he sucked it clean and tucked the umbrella behind Billy’s ear.

Billy glowered at him, but a second later a snigger ruined the effect. “You too. Wear one too.”

“What colour?”

Billy looked at the plate. “Yellow.”

Dom fed the pineapple on a yellow parasol to Billy, sucked the pick clean again, and tucked it behind his own ear. “Happy?”

Billy smiled widely. “’S very pretty.”

“Look who’s talking—like Lana Turner, you are. Here, eat your grape.” Dom picked it up carefully so it wouldn’t slip out from between his fingers like the others had, and popped it into Billy’s mouth. “Hope it’s worth all my hard work and frustration and angst,” he teased.

“Peelin’ grapes causes you…ehm…angst?”

“Definitely.” Dom ate a piece of mango.

“Don’t wanna cause my cabana boy angst. No more grape peelin’,” he said very seriously. “No—no…angsting?”

“Sure, if you like,” Dom fed Billy some mango.

“’F I like wha’?” Billy spoke unclearly around it.

“Angsting. I think it’s a new word. Should we put it in my dictionary, do you think?”

“Could we?” Billy’s face lit up. “I’ve never been ‘n a book before.”

Dom laughed.

 

 

Ten minutes later, the fruit was gone and Billy was fidgeting. Dom let him go for a few minutes, but finally said, “What is it, Billy? What do you need, mate?”

“Just th’ loo. But I don’t…don’ wanna get up.”

Dom grinned. “I could bring you a pail.”

Billy rolled his eyes even as he turned a little red.

“What are you blushing about? Compared to some of the places you’ve probably pissed in your life, I’m sure a pail is—“ Realization hit. “Oh. I see. A pail wouldn’t quite work, would it?”

“Ehm—no.”

“Well, come on, then,” Dom got up, then hauled Billy to his feet by the arms. “Nothing makes a bloke feel better than a good shite, I’ve always said.”

“You’ve never said that,” Billy accused, trying to fend off his embarrassment.

“Well, then, I should have. It makes me sound sage.” Dom followed Billy down the hall. “Listen, Bill—don’t bite my head off, but—have you…I mean…do you _know_ if you can manage?”

Even the back of Billy’s neck flushed, and he rather stiffly said, “Whether I can or not, I—I will. This’s one thing I can’t—I won’t…You’re just…not.”

“All right, Bill. But I’m staying right outside. If you have to, call me, I _will_ help you.”

“Fine.” Billy walked into the bathroom and presented Dom with his back. “Outside is where—where you’ll stay. ‘N don’t you dare…don’ even _think_ about saying ‘How’s it going?’”

Dom chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He worked Billy’s trackies and shorts down a little further this time, and quietly retreated. He left the bathroom door slightly ajar.

Almost immediately Billy’s indignant voice shouted, “Shut th’ bloody door, y’ twat!”

Dom shut it. He stepped away a bit, leaned up against the wall, and waited. And waited.

And waited.

Just when he was considering risking his life by inquiring how it was going, from the bathroom came a sharply muttered, “Ah, _fuck_.”

“Billy?” He stepped towards the door.

“Fuck off, Dom!”

Dom hesitated, then decided to give him a few more minutes.

Billy began to swear, muttering just loud enough for Dom to hear when he stood right outside the door. “Fuckshitefuckgoddammitfuckdamnfucksakebuggeringhellshitedamnfuckfuckdamn—“ The stream of profanity continued unabated for over a minute, and if Dom hadn’t been worried, he would have laughed. For someone who had holes in his memory the size of small caravans, Billy didn’t seem to have any difficulty remembering his swear words.

But finally the swearing stopped, and after another thirty seconds of silence during which Dom tried not to pound his head on the wall, the toilet flushed. And then Billy called his name and Dom eased the door open and peered in to see Billy standing, facing away, waiting with poorly concealed frustration for his trackies to be pulled up.

Dom wordlessly walked over, dressed him, and followed when Billy stalked out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen. He watched as Billy scanned the table, the counter, the stovetop—

“What are you looking for, Bill?” he asked quietly.

“Fuckin’—fuckin’—Augh! What the fuckin’ hell are they called?” he nearly shouted. “Pills!”

“The painkillers?”

“Yes!”

Dom opened the cupboard where he’d stashed them earlier, opened the plastic bottle and shook out two. “How bad is it? Should I check your hand?”

“No, y’ bloody well shouldn’t,” he snapped. “Give me th’ fucking pills.”

“Sit down, then,” Dom said neutrally, able to hang on to his own temper with the knowledge that Billy wasn’t really angry, at least, not with him.

Billy thumped down into a chair, breathing loudly through his nostrils.

Dom fetched a glass of water, stood behind him, and they went through the routine that was getting a little easier each time. Billy greedily swallowed both pills, and when he lowered his hand and Dom pulled the glass away, he dropped his head over, propping his elbows on his knees. Dom leaned against the counter and waited.

Eventually Billy, without raising his head, muttered, “Sorry.”

Dom was at Billy’s side immediately, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I’m not taking it personally.”

“Don’t mean t’ shout.”

“I know. Just wait for those to kick in.”

Billy was silent, but a moment later he turned sideways on his chair and leaned heavily against Dom, his head against Dom’s stomach.

Dom kept up the calming stroking up and down his spine for a while, but eventually just rested one hand on the back of his neck, and with the other cradled Billy’s head against his abdomen.

 

 

A long while later Billy sat up again. “’M sorry, Dom. Y’ must be tired.”

“A bit. How’s the pain, any better?”

“Yeah. Some. Enough. Why’n’t you go lay on the—y’ know, the sofa.”

“We should think about getting you to bed soon.”

“No.”

Dom raised his eyebrows even as his stomach sank. “What do you mean, no? You’ve got sedatives to make you sleep, and you may have dreamed a bit last night, but it didn’t last long and you didn’t even try to get out of bed, so what’s the problem, Billy, you can just go to bed and go to sleep so why won’t you go to sleep now, Jesus, Billy, please, you have to fucking go to sleep!”

Billy stared at Dom, at his clenched fists, at his heaving chest, and as gently as he could when his brain had such tenuous control over his tongue, he said, “I meant for now. Don’t wanna go t’ bed jus’ yet. Soon, okay, Dom? Is—is soon okay, m’ Dom?”

Dom closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling. “Yeah, Bills. Soon is fine.”

Billy got to his feet, stood behind Dom and nudged him with his head. “C’mon, Dom. Come with your Bills.”

“No, Billy, I need to get the laundry—“ he said a little roughly.

“Fuck th’ laundry. C’mon.” He shoved Dom harder with his head.

Dom reluctantly let himself be pushed out to the living room. Billy plunked himself down in the corner of the sofa and indicated for Dom to join him. Dom deliberately misunderstood, sat partway down the sofa, and picked up the TV remote. “What do you want to watch?”

Billy glared at him. “What th’ fuck are you doin’ down there?”

“Oh, how about this one? A little local Kiwi history, eh, Billy?”

“First, put on somethin’ I don’t have t’—have to—bugger. See?” He screwed up his eyes. “Concentrate. That’s it. Something I don’t have t’ concentrate on.”

“Right. Sorry.” Dom flipped the channels. “How about a movie? What’s this one, it looks familiar.”

Billy looked at the TV screen, easily said, “Oh, I like that one. ‘S _The Princess Bride_. Christopher Guest is fuckin’ excellent.”

Dom stared at him.

Billy stared back. His forehead wrinkled. “What th’ fuck is wrong with m’ brain?”

Dom couldn’t help it, he began to chuckle, and he relaxed a bit. “I don’t know, Bills, but it’s very entertaining. You seem to be quite fond of the word ‘fuck’, too.”

“Glad I could amuse you,” he muttered. “Is there anythin’ left in m’ glass over there?” He gestured to the glass of sparkling water Dom had brought him earlier.

Dom checked. “Yeah. Want a sip?”

“Please.”

Dom shifted closer and held the glass up for Billy so he could pucker his lips around the straw, watched him suck mouthful after mouthful. He ignored the suggestive part of his brain that was shrieking at him to give Billy something else to suck on, and instead focused on the fact that Billy had just completely drained the glass. He frowned. “Bill, if you’re thirsty, just let me know. I’ll make sure you’ve got something within reach.”

Billy released the straw with a little gasp for air, not seeing Dom swallow hard. “Didn’t realize I was. Just wanted a—a wee drink. Couldn’t stop. C’mere, Dom.”

“What?”

“Put the fuckin’ glass down and c’mere,” Billy demanded.

Dom set the glass on the coffee table a little harder than he’d intended. “Come where?” he said crossly, purposely being obtuse.

“Get your fuckin’ arse over here with me!”

“Why?”

Billy changed tactics. He leaned forward, touched Dom’s cheek with the back of one hand, quietly said, “I’m gonna steal your words ‘cos I’m—I’m bloody useless with ‘em right now. Dom—Dom. If y’ need a hug, lemme hug you. If y’ need a—a—a cuddle, lemme cuddle you. C’mere, m’ Dom.”

Dom closed his eyes. “I’m supposed to be looking after _you_ , Billy.”

“Well right now, at this very moment, ‘m okay, Dom. ‘M okay. Lemme give you a cuddle, yeah?”

Dom opened his eyes and looked at Billy, then wordlessly crawled over to lay his head on Billy’s chest as Billy’s arms went around him.

“Ah, m’ Dom.” Billy shifted further down into the corner so Dom could lay more comfortably.

“Watch your hands,” Dom muttered into his shirt.

“I am. You’re takin’ such good care. Of me.”

“You’re my best mate. Couldn’t do anything else, could I? I hate to see you suffering, Billy, I wish I could do more.” He turned and pressed his forehead against the inside of Billy’s shoulder, wriggled an arm around his waist.

“No one could do more ‘n you have. Don’ know what I’d do without you. Fall apart.”

“You wouldn’t. You just hit a rough patch, you’re going to be fine. You’ll get another good night’s sleep tonight, take it easy tomorrow, and you’ll feel miles better.”

“Hope so. Really hope so. Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“Did y’ say I dreamed…last night?”

Dom hesitated, but finally said, “Yeah. You did.”

“D’ you know?” Billy mumbled.

“Do I know what?”

“What I dreamed?”

“Not exactly,” Dom hedged.

Billy leaned his cheek on Dom’s hair. “Please.”

Dom sighed, then hooked a leg over Billy’s as if to protect him. “You dreamed about Margaret. And filming. And your hands.”

“How long did I—ehm…y’ know—keep you awake?”

“Not long, Bills.”

“I’m sorry, Dom.” Billy tightened his arms. “Sorry I woke you. ‘M sorry.”

Dom lifted his head to look up at Billy. “It’s okay, Billy, honestly. It really wasn’t long at all.”

“Okay. What—what’d I say about m’ hands?”

“I think you said they were gone.”

“Margaret?”

“You were just talking to her, like she was there with you.”

“Filming?”

Dom sighed. “You said—something about being on set, then the camera being on, but you weren’t ready.” Then Dom remembered one other detail, and smiled. “I spoke to you and you said, ‘Fuck off, Frodo’. That was funny.”

“Even asleep I say ‘fuck’,” Billy snorted. “Gran woulda—woulda. Y’ know. Washed my mouth out, if she’d heard m’ language today.”

“No doubt,” Dom laughed quietly.

Billy was quiet for a moment, then said, “I s’pose I thought m’ hands were gone ‘cos I can’t move them. Not so much that I can’t use ‘em, but I can’t even move ‘em. It’s—it’s hard. It’s…feels wrong.”

“I believe it. I wouldn’t want to go through it.”

Billy fell silent again, then suddenly said, “We shouldn’t sleep together.”

Dom froze. Finally managed, “Oh?”

“’M gonna sleep here. You in there.”

“Why, Billy?” Dom asked carefully, without warning finding himself walking a knife edge.

“Don’t wanna sleep with you. Don’ want to.”

Dom was impressed with himself. He really was a damn good actor. He calmly said, “It’s all right, Billy, you don’t have to. But I’ll take the sofa, we wouldn’t want you to roll over and fall off, would we?” He sat up.

Billy looked at him strangely, then suddenly began intensely studying the corner of the coffee table, brows together. “Something’s not—no. There’s somethin’ wrong here.”

Dom picked up Billy’s glass and stood. “Need another drink, Billy? I’m just going to go get a drink. Won’t be long, yeah?” Without waiting for an answer, Dom escaped to the kitchen, where he gripped the edge of the counter with white knuckles and leaned over, head bent, eyes closed. It was fine, he told himself firmly. He’d known Billy would come to a decision sooner or later, and that it might not be one he wanted to hear. It was just unfortunate Billy hadn’t waited until the meds were out of his system, because Billy was a good bloke who would usually be a lot more kind and subtle than ‘I don’t want to sleep with you’. Dom would get over the disappointment, and that’s all it was, really, was disappointment because they could have had some fun together, he and Billy, and it’s not like his heart was broken or anything melodramatic like that. A little bruised, maybe. But that was it.

Thus rationalized, Dom poured more water for Billy, a glass for himself, and returned to the living room. He found Billy standing in front of the window, forehead pressed to the glass. He forced his voice to be light as he said, “Don’t smudge the glass. I don’t do windows, you know.”

Billy didn’t move, didn’t answer.

“Billy?” Dom set the glasses down.

“Look,” he whispered.

Dom crossed to stand behind him and look out the window, but it was dark, only a distant streetlight throwing shadows through the trees. “What do you see, Billy?” he asked quietly.

Billy placed a fingertip on the glass near his nose. “See ‘em fall?‘S pretty in the window.”

“ _Okay_ , I think that means it’s time for bed, Billy, come on—“

Billy turned, and Dom saw what Billy had been watching in the window. The reflection of the tears sliding down his face.

“Bills, what’s wrong?” He gently put his hands on Billy’s arms.

He shook his head. “’M leaking. Not sad, though, Dom. Weird, innit? Jus’ started leaking. Think I said something. Know I did, but I don’ know what.” He dragged the sleeve of his jumper across his face, drying most of the tears. “What’d I say, Dom?”

“I don’t know. Nothing to worry about. Come on, let’s get you ready for bed, shall we?”

Billy froze, his head slightly cocked. Then his shoulders slumped and he sighed, “Almost had it. What’d I say? Tell me what I’ve said.”

“I don’t know—“

“No, no, I mean—I mean, actually tell me. I said this an’ I said this an’ I said this. Tell me. Have t’ find it.”

“Leave it until tomorrow—“

“No! Any more drugs and I’ll never remember.”

“Billy, this really isn’t—“

“Tell me!” Billy nearly shouted, his mood shifting yet again. “It’s—I know it’s fuckin’ important, Dom! I know something’s wrong—I know—and I can’t fuckin’ remember!” He turned back to the window, thunked his forehead against the glass again. “I can’t fuckin’ remember.”

“All right, Bills,” Dom said soothingly, just trying to ease the obvious tension making Billy’s whole body practically quiver. “All right, I’ll try and remember for you. But you need to relax a bit first, okay? Come on, take it easy.”

Billy loudly released a huge breath, and his shoulders dropped a bit.

“That’s it. That’s my—That’s good, Bills.” Dom sat in the armchair just behind and to Billy’s right.

“What’ve I said?”

“All right. You said ‘See them fall. Pretty in the window.’”

Billy shook his head impatiently. “Before that. Before th’ window.”

“Before the window. I went into the kitchen for drinks. Before that…”

“What? What, Dom?”

“Well, give me a minute to think!” he protested. “I didn’t know I was going to be quizzed on this, did I? Before I went to the kitchen…you said then too that something was wrong. And before that you said you didn’t want to sleep with me and that you were going to stay out here, but I told you I’d take the sofa.” Dom’s voice was remarkably even. “Because what if you rolled off? You might land on your hands, and God only knows what that would do. And before that we were talking about your dreams, and you said you must’ve dreamed your hands were gone because—“

“Stop,” Billy said sharply.

Startled, Dom stopped.

“Go back.”

“I’m trying, Billy, I don’t know how much further back I can remember—“

“No, no, no.” He shook his head, his forehead pivoting on the glass. “What y’ just said. Go back.”

“What, about your dreams? Is that what’s wrong, Billy? You’re worried you’re going to—“

“No. Back.”

“What if you rolled off the sofa?” Dom started to tense up again. Was Billy really going to make him say it _again_?

“No. Back.”

“Billy—“

“Back!” he cried. “Please, Dom, I’m almost there! I c’n feel it, an’ it’s really—really pissing me off I can’t remember!”

“Okay, Bills. Just take it easy. Before that you said you didn’t want to sleep with me and you were going to sleep out here, which is when I said what if—“

“Stop.” Billy turned, saw Dom’s closed eyes and the small grimace twisting his lips. “That’s it. Don’ wanna sleep with you.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that perfectly clear, Billy,” Dom pointed out with a twinge of bitterness to his voice.

“No. Don’t think I have.” Billy examined Dom’s face closely, trying very hard to concentrate. “Think ‘m a stupid fuckin’ bastard.”

“You’re not—“

“Am—God, Dom, I really am,” he said as quickly as he could manage. “Not ‘don’t wanna sleep with you’. Fuck—don’t wanna _wake_ you. D’ you see, m’ Dom? Sleep out here ‘cos I don’t wanna wake you up again. Bloody hell, Dom, I’m sorry—“ He broke off his frantic explanation as Dom suddenly rose and headed for the doorway. “Dom, please—‘m sorry.”

Dom paused, but didn’t turn. “I know, Bills. It’s okay, I understand.” His voice sounded odd, but not at all angry.

“Then—then where y’ goin’?” Billy asked uncertainly.

“Just going outside for a minute. I need some fresh air. I’ll be right back, Bills.”

“Dom—“

“Be right back.”

Billy heard the kitchen door slam. He rather shakily sat in the chair just vacated by Dom.

“Fuck. _Fuck_.”

When Dom had been gone for several minutes, Billy got to his feet and stumbled out to the kitchen. He stood at his back door and flattened his nose against the glass, looking for Dom, and it took him a moment to spot him in the dark. He was laying flat out on his back in the grass, the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, his elbows pointing to the sky, and looking down at him Billy felt absolutely wretched. He automatically reached for the doorknob, stopping only when his fingers tried to spread to grasp it and couldn’t, and a little twinge flickered through his palm. “Shite. Come in, Dom,” he murmured. “Please come in.” Nose back against the window, Billy waited.

What seemed like ages later, but was really probably only a few minutes, Dom’s arms flopped to the ground, and then he slowly, wearily climbed to his feet. He returned to the house, head down, and it wasn’t until he’d almost reached the door that he looked up. He started upon seeing Billy’s face framed in the window, then looked at his nose and smiled, pressing a finger to the glass directly opposite.

Billy stood there a second longer, then stepped back to allow Dom to enter. When he did, closing the door behind him, Billy moved closer again to gently run the back of one wrapped hand down the centre of Dom’s chest, repeating the motion several times as he said, “I really am sorry, Dom. The drugs’ve got me all stupid. ‘M saying everything wrong.”

“No you’re not, Billy,” he said kindly, rubbing at Billy’s arm a bit. “You’re doing great, honest. I should have known better—I wasn’t going to believe a word you said, remember?”

“’Cept that you’re m’ Dom.”

“Except that I’m your Dom,” he agreed with a smile. “And I think, my Bills, it’s high time we got you to bed. Will you come take another dose of your antibiotics?”

Billy made a face. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really, no.”

“Didn’t think so.” He walked over to take a seat at the kitchen table. They went through the routine with the glass, and then Dom ushered him towards the bathroom.

“I think we’ll get you ready and _then_ give you the sedative tonight, yeah?”

“Why?” Billy entered the bathroom, blinking as Dom flicked on the light.

“They really hit you hard last night, and you fought them a bit too much. So we’ll give them to you right before you lay down, and then you can just drift off.”

“Whatever y' think’s best, Dom.”

Dom grinned at him. “Can I have that in writing? Never thought I’d hear that from you.”

“Think you’re funny, don’ you?”

“I do, actually. All right, time to brush. Open wide for the choo-choo, little Billy.”

“I want m’ hands back just so I c’n…can…” Billy waved his hands about. “So I can, y’ know—throttle you.”

“Now, now,” Dom teased. “Is that any way to treat your cabana boy?” he asked as Billy glared at him but willingly opened his mouth.

After brushing Billy’s teeth and lowering his trousers for him, Dom left him alone, pulling the door over but not shut. By the time he’d retrieved the sedatives and a glass of water and left them on the night stand in the bedroom, he heard his name being called.

Dom poked his head into the bathroom as Billy flushed the toilet. “All set, then?”

“Yeah.” Billy waited with more patience than he had yet shown, as Dom set his clothing to rights.

“We’re getting better at this, eh, Bills?”

“Have I been that—that difficult?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Dom said, dismayed, and turned Billy to face him. “You haven’t been difficult.” At Billy’s snort and raised eyebrow, he added, “Okay, maybe you have been a _bit_. But I know it’s not you, Billy, I know it’s the meds and it’s frustration, and this hasn’t been easy for me either, but we’re both getting better. It’ll all get easier from here on out if we just keep trying to help each other.”

Billy turned away and walked out of the bathroom. “You may not’ve—have—shite. Noticed. I’m no help.”

Dom followed him to the bedroom. “Wrong. You can help me a lot, Bills.”

“Oh really? How?” he challenged, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Dom stood in front of him and looked down into his weary green eyes. “By telling me what you need. By telling me if you’re not doing so well. By not fighting me over things that have to be done. That’s how.”

Billy looked up at him. Blinked. “Oh.”

Dom chuckled. “Is it a deal?”

“Ehm…okay. I’ll try.”

“Good enough for me, Bills. You ready to get some sleep?”

“Yeah. ‘M tired, Dom.”

“Okay.” Dom picked up the pills and the glass and climbed onto the bed behind Billy. He sat close and reached around with both arms, tilting his head to the side so he could see. “First one.” When Billy opened his mouth, Dom put the pill in and held up the glass. After the second pill, before Dom could move away, Billy leaned back into him. “Uh-uh. Let’s get you changed for bed, first. Sit up.”

“But I need t’—“

“In a minute. In just one minute, whatever you need, I’ll do it for you. You just have to let me help you change first, before those pills knock you flat, okay?”

Billy sighed. “Okay.”

“Good man. Come on, then.” Dom got off the bed, put the glass on the dresser, found Billy’s shorts and tee that he slept in, and waited for him to stand.

It wasn’t nearly as difficult to get Billy undressed and changed as the night before, when he had been so affected by the sedatives. Dom didn’t quite know whether to be glad or disappointed he didn’t have to steady him with a hand on a bare hip again. After working Billy’s t-shirt on, he said, “There you are. Climb in—watch your hands.”

Billy carefully made his way into the bed. “Dom?”

Dom sat on the edge of the mattress. “Yeah? What was it you needed, Bills?”

“Can I—c’n I wake you up tonight?”

He frowned. “Of course, if you need me. But those are pretty strong sedatives you’re on, I don’t think you’ll be waking until tomorrow.”

“No. I mean—I mean. What do I mean?” he muttered. “Hang on.”

“It’s all right. Take your time.”

“Wake you up. That whole thing earlier. Where I fucked up.”

Dom smiled gently at him. “You didn’t fuck up, Billy. Do you mean me sleeping on the sofa in case you dream again?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said with a touch of relief. “M’ brain’s Swiss cheese, goddammit. Pissing me off. Can I wake you up? I mean—no sofa. Y’ see?”

“I see. You want me to sleep in here tonight?”

“If—if—if y’ don’t mind. Don’ _want_ t' wake you, but…”

Dom chuckled. “The whole sofa plan was your idea in the first place, I hate sleeping on that thing. Of course I don’t mind, Billy.”

“Okay.”

Dom thought Billy looked relieved out of all proportion. “Hey,” he said quietly, catching and holding Billy’s eyes. “What’s up?”

“I don’t wanna—I feel—“ he floundered, and stopped.

“You feel what, Bills?”

“I feel—I don’t know.” He bit his lip.

“Is it your hands? Are you in pain?”

Billy shook his head. “No.”

“Okay. That’s good, then.” Dom watched him for a moment, saw the slight catch every time he drew a breath, thought back to the other night, laying on their backs in the tall grass under the starless sky. “Is it in here, Billy?” Dom asked, and pushed a fist up under his own sternum.

Billy stared at that fist, and seemed to shrink in on himself as he wordlessly nodded.

“Okay,” Dom said softly. “It’s all right.” He stood up, and immediately put out a reassuring hand as Billy’s head lifted in dismay. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go lock the doors and brush my teeth, okay? A few minutes, okay, Bills?” When Billy jerkily nodded, Dom repeated, “I’ll be right back,” before quickly going to get ready for bed.

When Dom returned a few minutes later, Billy was still in the exact same position, staring at the blanket over his thighs. Dom changed quickly, then flipped the light off and made his slow, careful way over to the bed. “I didn’t buy you a lamp today, did I?” he said in a normal, conversational tone. “I’ll have to get one tomorrow if we’re out.” Reaching the bed, he pulled the covers back and climbed in. “I could get you one of those lamps where you only have to touch the rim to turn it on and off, you wouldn’t even need your fingers for it. That’d be good, wouldn’t it?” Dom slouched down into his pillow. “Come here, Bills,” he urged.

Billy didn’t move.

“Come on. I’ll give you a bit of a cuddle, we’ll see if we can’t get that feeling to go away, yeah?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I—I don’t wanna—I know…” Billy trailed off again, but this time Dom stayed quiet, letting him piece the thought together. “I know how y’ feel, Dom. Don’ wanna—y’ know, hurt you.”

Dom softly said, “Thank you, Billy. I appreciate that, that you’re worried about me when you’ve got so much going on. But this is okay, you know. This is different.”

“It is?”

The desire in Billy’s voice to believe Dom’s words squeezed at his heart. “Yeah, Bills, it is. This is just me trying to help my best mate feel better. So come on over here.”

Billy slowly—much more slowly than Dom had expected—eased himself down onto his pillow. He stilled for a moment, then awkwardly shifted toward Dom, stopping a few inches short of touching him.

“What is it, Billy?” Dom wished he could see Billy’s face, but he didn’t want to move, to get up and go turn the light back on.

It was a long moment before Billy answered, and when he did his voice was tight. “I hate this,” he muttered, the volume slowly rising with every word. “I hate this. Hate this. Fucking hate this!”

Dom quickly reached for him. “I know. I know. Come here.” He pulled Billy closer, held on when Billy resisted, tried to pull away. “Hey, c’mon, it’s me.”

“Let me go.”

“No. I’m not letting go of you, Bills. I won’t let go,” Dom insisted. “I know you hate this—I know this isn’t really you. Come on, Bills, be careful, please. Don’t hurt your hands.”

“No, Dom, let me go. I don’ wanna—no hug.”

“There’s nothing wrong with needing a hug. It’s all right, it’s just me. Come on Bills, stop fighting me.”

“Fucking let me go, Dom!” Billy suddenly thrashed. “Have to get up. Have t’ get up!”

Dom went from trying to hug Billy to just trying to keep him from hurting himself. “No! Stop it, Billy! _Christ_ , please, Billy—come on, stop it!”

“Let me go—“

Dom lowered his voice again, leaned his forehead against the back of a wildly struggling Billy. “Please, Bills—stop. You’re starting to scare me. Please.” It took a second, but the tinge of fear in his voice began to penetrate, and Billy’s struggles began to slow.

“Lemme go,” he insisted, but without shouting. “Don’ wanna do this again.”

“I don’t want to let you go, Bills. I don’t want to, I just want to have a bit of a cuddle with you until you go to sleep,” he murmured, and slowly loosened his arms a little as Billy stopped fighting him and lay there on his side, shaking. “You don’t want to do what again, Bills? Come on, talk to me.”

“Don’ wanna cry again. Had enough of crying,” he said angrily. “No one—no one older’n six cries this much. Wha’s wrong with me?”

Dom tightened his arms just a bit. “Bloody hell, Billy, how many times do I have to tell you—it’s just the meds making you so emotional. There’s nothing _wrong_ with you, all right?”

Billy began to weep.

“Oh, shite,” Dom moaned. “I’m sorry, Billy, I didn’t mean to snap. Please tell me I didn’t do this. Please tell me you were about to cry anyway.”

“’Course I fuckin’ was.” He began to sob.

Dom quickly curled up against him, around him, stroking his hair, his back, whispering in his ear, trying to soothe him, to comfort him, and after a few minutes the sobs abated. Dom leaned his head against Billy’s and continued to hold him as Billy quietly, tiredly cried for another few minutes before that, too, came to an end.

“Shh, Bills, it’s all right. It’s okay.”

Billy twisted his head to the side, dislodging Dom’s. “No it’s not,” he muttered raggedly. “’S gotta fuckin’ stop. I know y’ say it’s the—the—pills. Drugs. But I feel—Dom, I feel like…crying this much—‘s not right. What’s th’ matter? An’—an’ if there’s—if there’s no reason, it’s ev’n worse. No one cries this much for no fuckin’ reason.”

“Billy. I’ll tell you what. I’ll make you a deal. Will you make a deal with me?”

“What?” he asked, a little wary.

“Leave it for one day. Just one. Don’t worry about whether you cry, or shout, or laugh, or don’t feel like talking at all.” Dom gently rolled him over, then reached up in the dark to feel for his face, cupping it between both hands. “For one day, let whatever you feel out. And by tomorrow night, if you’re still worried about it, still crying a lot, then we’ll damn well start figuring out the reason why. Will you do that, Bills? Can you try and be patient with yourself for one day?”

“I—dunno. I’ll try, Dom.”

“It’s uphill from here, Billy, and I’ll be with you every step of the way, whether you want me or not, you hear me? I’m with you no matter what.” Dom leaned his head down to place his lips on Billy’s cheek, to press a gentle kiss there.

Billy awkwardly tried to put his arms around Dom, reached for him to pull him in, but there was no strength in him.

Dom rolled onto his side, pulled Billy with him, and again as he rolled onto his back, making sure Billy’s hands were out of the way, and as Billy lay half on top of him, Dom wrapped his arms tightly about him. “Tell me what’s making you fight that sedative so hard. You should be asleep by now, what’s going on? Tell me how you feel right now. Tell me what you see inside,” he murmured.

“I—I feel—“ Billy wretchedly whispered after a moment. “There’s me. There’s…me. An’ all around me—inside, but—but—outside _me_ …there’s…space.”

“Is that what’s under your ribs, Bills?” Dom asked quietly. “Space?”

“Yeah. It’s…’s empty,” he said a little lamely.

“Know what, Bills? If someone asked me to describe loneliness, I think that’s what I might say. Space inside, between me and everyone else. Do you think it feels like loneliness?”

“No. Maybe…yes.”

Dom hugged him tighter. “Tomorrow we’ll try and find a way to get rid of your loneliness when you’re with me. Okay, Bills? We’ll try and find a place you can count on that you won’t feel lonely, okay? But for tonight, go to sleep, Billy. Time to close your eyes and sleep.”

“Can’t,” he muttered, twitching. “Can’t. Can’t.”

“Why not?” Dom asked in surprise. “You’re tired, go to sleep.”

“’S dark.”

“Which is how we know it’s time to sleep, you silly arse,” Dom teased softly, rubbing Billy’s back with his other hand.

“No. Not out there.”

“Inside?”

“Yeah. M’ head.”

“What do you mean, Bills?”

“This ’s th’ drugs. Know it is. But. When I start t’—t’ fall asleep—I _fall_. ‘S like…’s like a roller coaster. But with no seats. An’ at night. An’ no—no—y’ know. Don’ go back up. Jus’ th’ drop, an’ it keeps goin’ an’ goin’. Makes me queasy, Dom.” Billy kept rambling, and Dom knew it was to try and avoid that falling sensation as the sedative began to claim him. “Don’ know—know which way’s up. An’ I can’t even—I—fuck. _Fuck_. Can’t even hold onto th’ bed, can’t—what’s th’ word? Fuck. Y’ know, stick m’self down.” He twitched.

“Orient yourself? Ground yourself?”

“’S it. Tha’s it, Dom. Ground. Both.” His voice started to slur. “Can’t even fuckin’ hold on ‘cos I…no hands.”

“I’ll hold onto you,” Dom said quietly.

“’S dark. An’ I’m fallin’. ‘M fallin’, makes me feel sick, Dom, an’ nothin’ t’ hold onto, Dom…”

Dom began rubbing slow but firm circles on Billy’s back. “Does that help, Bill? Does that help you feel which way is up?”

“Sorta,” he mumbled. “Still fallin’. Fuck. Still fallin’, Dom.”

“It’s all right, don’t worry, Bills. I’ll hang on to you and we’ll fall together, okay?” He dropped his voice, feeling Billy’s tension start to drain away, feeling him going boneless as consciousness began to slip away. “It’ll be okay, nothing will happen as long as we fall together, no need to feel sick, Bills, we’re falling slowly now, so slowly, we’re just floating now. Floating down into soft black sleep.”

“Dom,” Billy breathed one last time.

“Shh. We’ll fall into gentle dark sleep together, Bills,” he whispered, “you and me, together. Shh.” He listened to Billy’s breathing, deep and even, felt not a shiver of movement, and knew he was finally out cold. Despite his slight unease, Dom fell asleep only minutes later, still holding onto Billy tightly.

 

 

Dom woke slowly, on his own, and stretched without opening his eyes. A snort in his ear made him jump a little, but he knew who it was snuffling in his hair before he even registered the sound itself. He opened his eyes to find himself staring at Billy’s chin. A quick glance up confirmed he was still fast asleep, and for the second morning in a row, Dom indulged in unabashed staring. That chin, mouth, the enticing space between Billy’s lips and his perfectly shaped nose, the eyelashes that lay on his too-pale cheeks. Dom wondered with a sudden pang how hard a fight it was going to be for Billy to…to what? To get back to ‘normal’? To heal, he supposed. To free himself from the grip of whatever this was that had him so turned around, whatever was making him feel lonely, whatever had him mired in uncertainty. Dom hoped the long—and apparently unbroken—sleep he was getting would go a long way to leveling out his erratic emotions.

Watching Billy for one more long moment, Dom carefully eased closer and feathered a light kiss on his lips, barely even touching him. He then slid out of bed and quietly padded out of the bedroom, pulling the door over behind himself.

It was another three hours before Billy shuffled into the living room and leaned against the wall.

Dom looked up from the television and smiled. “Morning, Billy.”

“Is it?” he asked, his voice deeper than usual and rough with sleep.

“Barely. Need a piss?”

“Yeah.” He turned and shambled back down the hall, Dom following behind. “How long was I out?” he asked.

“Almost thirteen hours.”

Billy stopped short and Dom nearly stepped on his heels. “Thirteen? Bloody hell, why di’n’t y’ wake me earlier?” he demanded.

“What for? You needed the sleep.”

“Still. Thirteen hours.”

Dom gave him a gentle push toward the bathroom. “Yes, because it was very important you be up by nine o’clock this morning.”

“Still,” Billy feebly protested.

“Still nothing. I’m going to make you take a nap this afternoon, too.” Dom waited until Billy stood in front of the toilet, then pulled his shorts down for him.

“You’ll _make_ me?”

“Yes, I will,” Dom said cheerfully. “Give us a shout when you’re finished.” He walked out.

“You—y’ tyrant!” Billy yelled after him.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Twenty minutes later, Billy and Dom sat at the kitchen table with steaming mugs of coffee, and Billy tried very hard to conceal his frustration at having to be fed the massive plate of bacon, eggs, and toast that Dom had prepared for him.

Dom finally noticed. “Just a bit more. It’s almost over.”

Billy finished chewing what was in his mouth, swallowed, leaned down to take a sip of his coffee through the straw, then said, “I know. Sorry. I’m—I’m trying.”

“I know you are,” Dom smiled at him. “You’re doing great.”

After he’d eaten all he could, Billy sat back with a sigh. “Thanks, Dom. It was good.”

“Sure you don’t want anymore?”

Billy nodded. “’M stuffed.”

“Glad to hear it,” Dom said, pleased. He got up and took Billy’s plate to the sink. “Do you want your painkillers?”

“Don’t really want ‘em. Just make me even stupider. But…”

“But your hands hurt?” he asked kindly.

“Yeah.”

Dom shook two of the pills into his hand, then gave them to Billy with water. Billy swallowed them and lowered his hand from the bottom of the glass.

Thanks, Dom.”

“Shut it. Save it for later, remember? Now, the next step—“

“Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“Need to talk t’ you.”

Dom turned to look at him, surprised. “All right. You okay?”

Billy frowned a little. “What? What next step?”

“Getting you cleaned up. You’re starting to pong a bit,” Dom teased, unfazed by the lag in Billy’s grasp on the conversation.

“Am not!”

“Are too. I’ll tell you one thing, though,” Dom remarked as he scraped the remains of Billy’s breakfast into the rubbish bin. “You’re going to have to go unshaven for a bit. I’ll bathe you, but I’m not risking your throat with a razor.”

“Yeah, I’d—I’d. Wait. _Bathe_ me? No. Fuckin’ no. No way.” Billy was shaking his head before he’d finished speaking.

Dom put the plate in the sink, then turned to face Billy, crossing his arms on his chest and matter-of-factly asking, “So you’re planning on being a disgusting unwashed git for a week? Not if I’m looking after you, thank you very much.”

“Do it myself,” Billy said mulishly. “You’re not—not fuckin’ _washin’_ me.”

“Billy,” Dom said quietly, meeting and holding Billy’s eyes with his own. “You said you were going to try not to fight me over things that have to be done. You can’t use your hands, and you’ll need a wash. Today, tomorrow, whenever. Might as well do it today.”

Billy’s eyes pleaded with him. “Can’t. Dom, no. ‘S too—too—fuck. Too…humiliating. No.”

Dom watched him with some sympathy, but said, “It’s not exactly something I’m entirely comfortable with either, Bill.”

It took a moment, but understanding slowly dawned across Billy’s face, and he looked, if anything, even more wretched. “See? Can’t. Can’t ask y’ to—“

Dom was silent for a moment, thinking. “Tell you what. We can get around this. I’ll wash your hair at the sink, no problem with that, right?”

Billy warily nodded.

“And then we’ll run a bath for you, and you can sit and soak for a good long time, and that’ll be good enough for the short term. I’ll only wash you from the waist up. Deal?”

Billy thought hard. He flushed a bit as he said, “But you’ll still—still see me.”

“Sort of, yes. But I promise not to look, if you know what I mean. You wouldn’t happen to have any bubble bath, would you?” Dom asked, without much hope.

But Billy’s face brightened. “Bubbles. I’d be under bubbles.”

“Yeah, but do you have any?”

“Remind me t’ thank—whatshisname. Orli. For bein’ a twat. Gave me some as a—as a…y’ know. A wind-up.” He frowned again. “Where is it?”

“You probably put it in the bathroom, didn’t you?”

Billy shook his head. “No. I put it…I put it… Oh! I remember!” he said, pleased with himself. “I put it in th’ bathroom.”

Dom chuckled. “Well done, Bill. All right, you can soak behind a nice thick screen of bubbles, and I’ll wash everything but your nether regions. Deal?”

Billy snickered. “Nether regions? Yeah, deal.”

“Good. See? We can work stuff out. Now—what did you want to talk to me about?”

Billy looked up at him blankly.

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” Dom gently reminded him.

“I did?” Billy’s eyes flitted around as if searching for clues. “I don’t—I don’ remember… Fuck.”

“It’s all right.” Dom pushed himself off the counter. “It’ll come back.”

“Bugger. What was it…” Billy closed his eyes tightly, desperately trying to concentrate. “It was—was. _Shite_.”

Dom walked over and laid a hand on Billy’s hair. “Don’t worry about it. If it was important, it’ll come back to you.”

Billy leaned his head against Dom’s side for a moment. “I hate this, Dom.”

“I know. But you’ve taken the last of the sedatives, your brain will start to clear soon. You’ll be able to remember things in no time.”

Billy sighed heavily, but said nothing.

“Shall we wash your hair, then, Billy?”

“Guess so,” he said, still obviously trying to think of what he’d wanted to talk about.

Dom briskly rubbed a hand across Billy’s shoulders. “Leave it. You’re more likely to remember if you don’t try and force it. I’ll go and get your shampoo.”

He quickly returned with shampoo, conditioner, and towel. He stopped short upon seeing Billy hunched over, arms wrapped around himself, hands sticking out awkwardly from his sides. “Billy? What’s wrong?” he asked, suddenly tense.

Billy looked up. “Nothing. Why?”

“Oh. Good. Well, just the way you were sitting—“

He smiled lopsidedly. “Just realized ‘m freezin’. Not wearin’—whatsits. Trousers.”

Dom smiled at him in relief. “Well, not much point in putting them on now, is there?”

Billy’s eyes widened slightly. “There—there isn’t?”

“Bath, remember?”

“Oh. Right. I—right.”

Dom eyed him sideways. “What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing.” Billy hurriedly got to his feet. “Hair, right?”

“Right. What did you think I meant?” he repeated.

“What? When? Don’ remember.” Billy went over to the sink and leaned over, resting his elbows on the counter to either side. “Ready.”

Dom watched him for a moment, but decided to leave it alone. “Well, get out of the way for a minute, let me get the water warm first.”

A few minutes later, Billy’s hair was wet and Dom was massaging shampoo into his scalp.

“Nrgh.”

Dom paused. “Is that good or bad?”

“Mmnph.”

“Billy?”

“Feels good,” he moaned. “Keep going.”

Forcing a chuckle, trying to ignore the breathy depth in Billy’s voice, Dom resumed working the soap through Billy’s hair. “We can’t do this all day, you know.”

“Yes we can.”

“Oh no, we can’t.” But Dom kept rubbing his fingers over Billy’s scalp rather longer than necessary, knowing how good it felt for him. Finally, though, he turned the water back on, got it to temperature, and began to rinse Billy’s hair.

Until Billy suddenly snapped upright, sending streams of water and soap flying. “I remember!” he exclaimed.

“Jesus, Bill, what the fuck are you doing?” Dom shouted, grabbing for the towel to rub the shampoo out of his eyes. “Bloody hell. What the fuck is _in_ that shit, Billy, acid?”

“I remembered, Dom,” Billy repeated, a little more uncertainly.

“Lovely. No, really, that’s just grand. I hope you’ll remember where the mop is, because now I have to clean this bloody mess up,” he snapped before he could stop himself. He dabbed with a corner of the towel at his still-streaming eyes.

Billy’s face clouded over, then shuttered fast. “Sorry, Dom,” he said quietly. “Di’n’t mean t’—sorry.” He leaned back over the sink, silently waiting.

Dom looked at Billy’s wet t-shirt plastered to his back, at the goosebumps on his arms, and sighed, disgusted with himself. He dried Billy’s arms off and laid the towel over his shoulders. As he resumed rinsing Billy’s hair, he resignedly said, “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Billy. I shouldn’t have lost it like that. It’s just a little water, right?”

“Right,” came the dull answer.

Dom picked up the conditioner, squeezed a small amount onto his palm, then began working it through Billy’s hair. “Please don’t sound like that, Billy, I really am sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m just—I’m a bit off today. I’ll try not to take it out on you.”

“What d’ you mean off?”

“I’m—a bit tense. Maybe I overslept.”

Billy frowned. “What—what’re you tense ‘bout? Don’t be—don’t—“

“It’s all right, Billy, it’s not that bad, I’m just a little jumpy,” Dom said as he began rinsing Billy’s hair again. “For one thing, I’m not looking forward to checking your hands, I’m afraid I’ll either pass out or puke on you,” he smiled.

“Don’t look. Unwrap ‘em an’ I’ll look,” Billy suggested, sounding less withdrawn.

“I don’t know—can I trust you to say if you need to see a doctor again?” Dom teased a little.

“Yeah. Not risking anything with m’ hands.”

“True. Well, maybe I will, at that, we’ll see. There, all done,” he said as he turned off the tap. He briskly rubbed Billy’s hair with the towel. When Billy straightened up and turned from the sink, Dom impulsively gave him a hug. “Forgive me?”

“For what?”

Dom leaned his head on Billy’s shoulder. “For shouting at you.”

“’Course.” Billy wrapped his arms around him. “I’ve given you a lot t’ shout about. Surprised y’ haven’t done…y’know. More of that, really.”

“Billy. You’re shivering. Come on, let’s go get you that hot bath, yeah?”

“Yeah—no. Wait. What else?”

“What else what?” Dom asked, confused.

“What else are y’ tense ‘bout? Y’ said—y’ said ‘for one thing’. What other things?”

Dom couldn’t help but chuckle even as he shook his head. “Sure. _That_ you remember.”

Billy hugged him tighter. “What’s makin’ y’ tense, m’ Dom?”

He sighed, his smile slipping a little. “I just—I had a lot of time this morning to worry about things, and I let it get to me a bit too much, that’s all.”

“What things, Dom?” Billy insisted.

“I’m a little—a little worried that I’m not going to do a good enough job looking after you, all right?” he said with a rush. “That I’m going to miss something important, or forget something, or do something wrong. But it’s stupid, I know it’s stupid, because it’s not like we’re stranded on a desert island, right? The cavalry’s only a phone call away, I know that.”

Billy let go of him enough to lean back and look him in the eye. “Dom. Y’ silly wee bugger. So y’ forget something. Think I’d even—even notice?” he grinned crookedly. “’Sides. I’m jus’ tired. An’ stupid. An’ stitched up. ‘S not like I’m deathly ill.”

Dom dropped his eyes. “I know. I just don’t want to bollocks this up. I want my Bills back,” he said softly.

“I want—y’ know. Want me back too. Not keen on this Billy, he’s a bit of a—a prat. But y’ know what else he is, m’ Dom?”

“What?”

Billy huddled against his chest. “Really fuckin’ cold. So don’ worry, Dom, you’re takin’ good care of me. Don’ want no one but you takin’ care of me. But ‘m cold, Dom.”

“So much for taking good care of you,” Dom groaned. “Come on. That hot bath’ll warm you up.” He led Billy straight into the bathroom and started the water cascading into the tub. “Any idea where your bubble bath is?”

“Under th’ sink?” His forehead wrinkled.

Dom opened the cabinet door, spotted it immediately, and began to laugh. He pulled it out, laughing harder as he looked at it up close.

Billy grinned. “Don’ know where—where. Y’know. He got it.”

Dom twisted the cap off, then had to set it on the vanity before doubling over with his hands on his knees. “Oh God,” he gasped, eyes watering. “Trust Orli to find something like that! Why on earth did he give it to you?” He straightened up, still chuckling helplessly, and regarded the bottle.

“Told him how when I was—was a lad. Wanted t’ be a Jedi knight.”

“And he found you Jedi knight bubble bath. Fucking priceless. I love how the head screws off,” Dom laughed again. “Who is that, anyway? Anakin?”

“No. ‘S Luke, o’ course. From the _real_ Star Wars movies. If I’d been a Jedi, I woulda—woulda. What’s th’ word? Can’t remember. Kicked his arse, anyway.”

“Luke Skywalker’s? Not a chance,” Dom scoffed, grinning.

“Would too’ve. ‘Specially when he only had one arm. Defes—fuck. Defences wide open.”

“There’s something to be proud of. Besting a one-armed man who’s just found out his father is the Dark Lord.” Dom picked up the bottle and sniffed, then recoiled. “Bloody hell! Smells like a Jedi knight’s _shorts_.”

“Jus’ pour it in.”

“You’re going to regret this, Bill. It’s disgusting.” But he poured a long stream into the tub. When he lifted his hand, Billy shook his head.

“More.”

Dom poured more. They both stood and watched the suds grow.

“More.”

Dom rolled his eyes. “Billy. It’s not like I’m going to be standing here staring at your John Henry. I’m helping you in, then I’m leaving. When I come back I’ll wash your feet and your chest and arms, and that’s it, it’ll be over.”

“Fine,” he muttered.

Dom leaned over and shut the water off, and the resulting silence was almost startling. “Billy, why are you so self-conscious all of a sudden?” he asked quietly. “You’ve never been this concerned with…with modesty, before.”

“’M not,” he snapped, turning away. “Are y’ going t’ let me take this bath or not?”

Dom took the hem of Billy’s t-shirt and pulled it off over his head, then off his arms, taking care not to let it catch at the bandages on his hands. He pushed down Billy’s boxers. “Step out.”

Billy did, then immediately lifted one foot into the tub.

“Careful, Bill.” Dom grabbed his arm, then leaned into catch at his other arm and take some of his weight. “Slowly. Please, don’t slip.”

He stepped in with his other foot. “Lemme go.”

“In a minute.” Dom helped him ease down into the water, steadied him as he sat all the way.

“Lemme go.”

Dom pulled his hands away, but crouched down by the tub. “Why, Billy?”

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled, obstinately staring down at the foam covering the surface of the water.

“As soon as you tell me why you’re so embarrassed for me to see you.”

“’Cos it’s you,” he muttered.

Dom frowned. “That’s what I don’t understand. It’s just me.”

“No, it’s not _jus’_ you, Dom. It’s—it’s…you. Y’ keep sayin’ we’re jus’ mates, but—but we’re not _jus’_ mates, there’s—y’ know. This whole other—other…thing,” Billy explained in a sudden stumbling rush of words. “Don’ want you t’ look. At me. ‘Cos I don’ know how—how you’ll see me. An’ then y’ pull my pants down for a piss an’ it gets even weirder,” he finished miserably.

“All I see is Billy,” Dom said gently. “No more, no less. And it’s not like I’m _looking_ , anyway, not like I’m staring at your dick, Billy, as a matter of fact as far as I’m concerned the area between your legs and your navel is nonexistent at the moment. So I only see Billy, my friend. And if I do see your dick, then it’s simply another one of Billy’s body parts. Do you see what I’m saying, Bills?” He felt a little bad for being less than truthful with Billy, but it was necessary if they were going to get through this. Telling Billy he was more attracted to him than ever and it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself at times would hardly help matters. “This isn’t about sex, Billy,” he said firmly. “It’s about helping you while you need it, and it’s about…”

Billy finally looked up at him. “’Bout what?”

“About getting you back to where you’re supposed to be.”

“Where’s that?”

There was a note of uncertainty back in Billy’s voice, and Dom wished he could erase it. “Happy. God, Billy, I just want to see you happy again. That’s all I want, anything else is secondary, I hope you believe that.”

Billy didn’t answer, but as he lowered his eyes, the tension stiffening his neck seemed to ease.

Dom briefly reached over and threaded his fingers through Billy’s hair, then stood up with a grunt. “This film is killing my knees. I’ll be arthritic when I’m forty,” he grumbled. “I’m going to go get some plastic bags for your hands. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dom returned with four bags, two for each hand. The first one he taped to Billy’s wrist, and the second he secured with an elastic.

Billy looked like he was about to protest.

“You should be all right if you wanted to try giving anything a quick wash,” Dom forestalled him calmly. “Just be careful. And give me a shout if you need anything, I’m not going far.”

Dom had walked out before Billy could manage to say anything, so he shouted, “Thanks, Dom!”

“I thought we talked about that, you wanker!” came the mock-indignant reply.

With a sigh that was part resignation, part gratitude, and part relief, Billy leaned back against the tub and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe how tired he still felt, even as he realized it was probably at least partially due to the aftereffects of the powerful sedative.

He also couldn’t quite believe how amazing Dom was being, even though he had to find Billy sorely trying at times. Most of the time. Billy just felt so…he mentally floundered, trying to finish that thought, and was startled enough that his eyes snapped open when the word that came to him was _feart_. What the…?

What on God’s green earth (and if that didn’t describe New Zealand right down to a T then Billy didn’t know what did, not that there _was_ a T in New Zealand, and then he couldn’t help a little snort at how bloody easily he got distracted, honestly, he was like…one of those birds. What were they? The kind that were attracted to shiny things, the kind that would find bits of Christmas tinsel and weave it into their nests.)

Billy quietly groaned when he realized he was doing it again. “Come on, Boyd, focus,” he muttered under his breath. Where had he been? He felt so…oh, right. Feart. What on God’s green earth (no no no don’t go there again)—what the hell did he have to be afraid of?

Billy tried to concentrate, tried to pick away at that idea until he could see what was behind it, but it was so hard to pin anything down in his head long enough to examine it. “Fuck,” he whispered.

Okay, come at it from another direction. Pay attention, Bill. When had he last felt that unease that was apparently really fear?

He sighed. It had been there for a while now, hadn’t it? All right, then, when was it strongest? Because he’d had his ups and downs lately, hadn’t he?

And his ups had all been thanks to Dom, but that was hardly news. Dom knew how to drag a smile out of him better than anyone ever had, Dom had been so kind and comforting and was trying his hardest to understand—and he did, a little, he’d understood the loneliness that was plaguing Billy, he’d managed to put into words at least part of the reason Billy kept thinking of his mum and dad.

But wait. That wasn’t where he’d started. Billy shifted in the tub, disturbing the water, and for a moment he stopped thinking entirely, entranced by the sounds of the diminishing bubbles around him separating and rejoining as the water moved, sounding vaguely reminiscent of the sea.

Where had he started, to end with Dom?

That thought in itself distracted him. “ _Fuck_.”

“You all right, Billy?” Dom called from what sounded like the kitchen.

“Ehm—yeah,” he called back after a second’s pause. “Could use s’ more—more hot water, though.”

“So? You have toes, don’t you?” Dom yelled cheerfully.

And there it was again, that bone-deep feeling of gratitude, and Billy wasn’t even sure what for.

His elbows on the edges of the tub, Billy inched his way down on his arse until, with his knee bent, he could lift his foot and grasp the ‘hot’ tap with his toes. He turned it. Nothing. Repositioned his toes for a better grip and tried again. The water dribbled out. It took him five or six limited turns to get the tap wide open, but he did, and he pulled his feet back from the cold water pouring in. It soon ran hot, though, and with fascination he watched his absurdly large-looking foot sweep around the end of the tub, circulating the water, warming up the entire bath.

He was a little _too_ fascinated with the distortion of the water, though, and it wasn’t until the water was threatening to reach the top of the tub that he gave a little yelp and quickly tried to grasp the slippery tap with his toes again. “Fuckshitefuckfuckdamn,” he chanted as he finally grabbed hold and with short, sharp twists, inched the knob back around until the water ceased.

“Bill? Need a hand?” There was concern in Dom’s voice, and Billy suddenly, without warning, laughed loudly.

“No,” he called back, grinning, “I’ve got…talented toes. ‘S all good.”

“Maybe you should learn to play the guitar with them,” Dom joked, reassured. “You’d be a big hit at parties.”

“’M already a big hit—at parties,” he retorted.

“That’s just people gawking at your dancing, Bill.”

“I know. ‘M good, aren’t I?”

“Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

Billy chuckled and subsided back against the end of the tub. He tried to think of the last time he’d had an actual bath, but gave it up as unimportant when he couldn’t remember.

Where had he left off? Billy scrunched his forehead up, concentrating as hard as he could. Before the tap. After Dom trying to understand. It was Dom, though, it had been about Dom—that was it. Where had he started, to end with Dom?

Something about that phrase nearly stopped his breath. End with Dom. No matter where he started, it all came back to Dom. Well, almost all. Not the homesickness, really, and not missing his mum and dad. But almost everything else, in some roundabout fashion, led back to Dom, and that’s what he was afraid of.

Billy sat, stunned.

How could he possibly be afraid of Dom? It just didn’t make sense. There was no way he was afraid of Dom.

And then Billy remembered his dream about the house being on fire. He’d dreamed he couldn’t get out, that he broke the window, that someone had pulled him back into the room. And all of those things had really happened.

So.

So?

So what did it mean that he’d pushed Dom away from him? Billy closed his eyes, went to put his hand to his head but started at the cool touch of plastic on his skin. Instead, he scrubbed his forehead hard with the inside of his arm.

Fuck. This was too hard with his brain in the state it was. Maybe he should leave it until tomorrow—although he hated leaving it with the thought that somehow, in some way, Dom frightened him. The very idea was distressing, and even though Billy could feel himself getting upset, he was next to powerless to stop it. “No,” he muttered at himself. “Don’ y’ dare.” He squeezed his eyes shut tight, more loudly repeated, “ _No_.”

“Billy?” Dom called. “You need something?”

“No!” he shouted.

There was silence from the other room.

“ _Fuck_. Dom?” he yelled. “Not you. Talkin’ t’ myself. Sorry. Not you, ‘kay?”

“Okay, Bills. It’s all right.”

Billy shifted again, sitting up. “Cut it out, Boyd,” he muttered. “Cut. It. Out.” He reached up and with his gauze-and-plastic wrapped right hand, snagged the washcloth off the bar beside him. “Don’ y’ dare. Don’ you fuckin’ dare, Boyd. Leave it alone.” He dropped the cloth in the water, and when it was soaked, awkwardly draped it over his hand and lifted, then began with the side of his stiff hand to drag it over the bar of soap on the shelf beside him. It worked—until the soap slid off the shelf and dropped with a splash between Billy’s legs. “Fuck!”

Dom was obviously trying to exercise some restraint, because he didn’t call out again.

Billy took a deep breath, trying to force even a little calmness. With the semi-soaped washcloth, he slowly, painfully, and not entirely thoroughly washed himself, getting more and more upset and frustrated and angry with himself by the minute. He finally left the washcloth in the water, and, breathing sharply through his nose, put his hands in the water to try and pick up the soap.

When the elastic on his right wrist snapped, it took Billy a few seconds to realize it, to figure out what had happened, and to realize water had poured into the outer bag, dragging it partially off his hand. With a cry, he yanked his hands out of the bath, sending water streaming halfway across the bathroom, and he began to panic. “Dom! Dom! Jesus fuckin’ Christ! Dom! Oh God, Billy, y’ stupid sonofabitch!” he bellowed. “Dom! Leak! Fuckin’ leak, Dom!” He continued to shout even after Dom came racing in and grabbed a towel and dealt with the minor crisis quickly and efficiently. “Dom! Th’ fuckin’ elastic went, Dom! It leaked! What’ve I done, Dom, what’ve I fuckin’ done?”

Dom had already pulled the plastic off both hands and yanked off the tape, but Billy hadn’t even noticed. “You haven’t done anything, Billy,” he said firmly, drying Billy’s arms and then checking the gauze.

“I’m such a goddamn fuckwit an’ I was tryin’ t’ get th’ bloody soap!” he cried. “I shouldn’ve put ‘em all th’ way under, Dom! What’ve I done?”

“Billy, shut up,” Dom said loudly. “You haven’t done anything. It’s a little damp around your wrist, but that’s it, all right?”

“Fuck! _Christ_!” he groaned, not even hearing Dom. “I don’ wanna wreck m’ hands, Dom, I need m’ hands back, Dom!”

“Billy, it’s all right—“

But to Billy’s intense irritation and anger, his eyes began to fill with tears yet again. “That’s it! That’s fuckin’ it!” he shouted, twisting to the side, trying to get to his knees, failing to get to his feet. “I’ve had—I’ve had—fuckin’ well had enough!” His thrashing attempts to get up without using his hands sent water pouring over the side of the tub, soaking Dom, who was desperately trying to keep him from standing and quite probably slipping. “I’ve fuckin’ had enough! Can’t fuckin’ do this anymore!”

“Billy, you sodding twat!” Dom shouted right into his face, startling a kneeling Billy into sudden silence. “Sit your fucking arse down right now or I swear I’ll bloody well sit it down _for_ you!”

Billy’s mouth hung open, the tears on his cheeks already forgotten, and bathwater dripped down his neck. After a frozen moment, he meekly sat with Dom’s help.

Dom sat back on his heels, catching his breath. He suddenly grinned at Billy. “That worked well, didn’t it?”

Billy nodded mutely, eyes still a little wide.

Using a corner of the towel, Dom scrubbed Billy’s face and neck dry. As he did so, he calmly said, “We had a deal, remember? You were going to be patient with yourself today, cut yourself a bit of a break. I know you’re worried about your hands, Bills, and a few tears are nothing to get this upset about, all right?”

Billy nodded, unconvinced. “’M sorry, Dom—“

“There’s no need to apologize, either. Well—“ he grinned again, “—maybe I’ll let you apologize for soaking me, you daft git. If you wanted me to take a bath, you could’ve just said so.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth twitched, and Dom knew they were past the worst of it. “’M sorry for soakin’ you, Dom.”

“Fine,” he said magnanimously. “I’ll forgive you—this time.”

“Dom?”

“Yes, Bills?”

“I don’ wanna take a bath anymore, ‘kay?”

Dom raised his eyebrow. “You mean right now, or ever again?”

“Now, y’ wanker.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way and you know it,” Dom said breezily. “You still hiding the soap down there? Let’s do what we have to do and get you the hell out of there, yeah?”

Billy awkwardly kicked the soap out from under his opposite knee. “I don’ have—bubbles left,” he said, almost as a warning.

“I promise I won’t goose you,” Dom vowed with equal seriousness.

“Dom!”

“Trust me, Bills,” he said quietly, and even with his head full of cotton wool, Billy thought he could hear something behind it that sounded like a plea. “Trust me? I’ll make this as easy on you as I can, if you’ll just trust me.”

“M’ Dom.” Billy’s eyes rose to meet stormsea grey ones. “I trust you. I do. I do. ‘S only—“

Dom gently stroked the hair on the back of Billy’s head. “I know.” He waited until the odd look had left Billy’s face. “I’ll get the soap and washcloth, then, shall I?”

Billy nodded.

Dom carefully retrieved them from the water, then shuffled on his knees down the tub, facing away from Billy, until he could reach Billy’s feet. After soaping up the cloth, Dom picked up one foot and began to quickly wash it.

Billy watched Dom’s back, his shoulder, and he began to relax a bit as it finally sank in that he hadn’t made his hands worse, and that Dom really was going to try and spare them whatever embarrassment he could.

As Dom rinsed off that foot and picked up the other, Billy quietly said, “Wasn’t jus’ th’ soap, the—th’ leak. Was already…y’ know.”

“A little upset?”

“Yeah.”

“I wondered. You said you were talking to yourself, but you shouted a bit.” Dom rinsed off the second foot, then got to his feet to return to the other end. “Move forward a bit, Bill. Sit up. You can lean your elbows on your knees if you like,” he murmured.

Billy tried it and found that not only was it comfortable, but that it effectively shielded him from view as well—and he knew Dom had done that on purpose.

“All right, then, Bills?”

“Yeah. Yeah, all right, m’ Dom,” Billy said gratefully.

“That’s good. I’m going to start with your front,” he warned, before reaching around with the lathered washcloth and quickly scrubbing Billy’s chest. “So,” he said quietly. “How come you were already upset?”

It took Billy a long moment to answer. “’Cos ‘m stupid.”

“You are not. I wish you’d quit saying that—“ He roughly rubbed the cloth up over Billy’s shoulder and swiped it around his neck.

“No. Hang on. Wasn’t finished.”

“Oh. Sorry,” he muttered as he swished the washcloth through the water and began rinsing the soap off Billy’s neck and chest.

“I—I wanna… Need t’ figure out what th’ fuck’s wrong with me. So I was—was. Y’ know. Thinking. Trying to.”

Dom stayed quiet, but soaped the cloth and then slid his hand down Billy’s shoulder to lift his wrist and begin washing under his arm.

Billy tried to pull away. “No—“

“Gotta be done, Billy, I’ll be quick. What were you thinking about?”

“Dom—“

“Come on, Bills. You said you were trying to think. What about? About what’s been bothering you?”

Billy grunted. “Yeah. But I only got—got so far. An’ then I got stuck ‘cos m’ brain’s fucked.”

Dom moved to wash under Billy’s other arm. “Where’d you get stuck? Maybe I can help you get unstuck,” he offered.

But Billy stiffened. “No. No. Don’… I can’t. Can’t tell you.”

Despite himself, Dom felt it like a little stab in his chest. “Okay, Billy. You don’t have to.”

“No, Dom,” he groaned, dropping his head onto his arm. “Y’ don’ understand. Fuck. _Fuck_.”

“Shh, it’s all right.” Dom moved the cloth onto Billy’s back and began firmly rubbing it in calming circles. “Explain it to me, then. Take your time.”

“I… I had—a thought,” Billy said slowly. “An’ it—I don’ understand it. But…I— _fuck_.”

“Take your time,” he repeated, his voice low and soothing.

“I just... Christ, Dom. Makes no sense. Makes no fuckin’ sense. ‘M not afraid of you, ‘m not, but that’s where—where I got stuck,” his words suddenly came tumbling out. “I couldn’t—couldn’t fuckin’ think ‘cos m’ brain won’t work an’—an’—I don’ wanna leave it there ‘cos—Christ, I hate—fuckin’ _hate_ th’ idea that—that _any_ part of m’ brain thinks ‘m scared of you, ‘cos ‘m not, Dom, swear ‘m not, but ‘m fuckin’ useless right now, an’ I can’t figure out where—where th’ fuck that came from an’—an’ God, Dom, it’s freakin’ me out a bit that—that I can’t figure m’ own fuckin’ head out, an’ I don’ under—understand why—“ His voice choked off abruptly when Dom dropped the washcloth and pulled him close, holding him tightly when he might have slid against the side of the tub.

“Stop, Billy,” Dom said urgently. “Stop it. It’s all right.”

Billy discovered he was trembling, shaking from head to foot, and was vaguely surprised to note he wasn’t crying again as well. “Dom—“

“Shh. Shh, my Bills. I need you to stop worrying for a bit, okay?” Dom said, his voice gentle now. “I know you’re not scared of me, so you stop worrying about that right this minute. Let’s just get you out of this bath, I think your water’s getting cool. You ready to get out, my Bills?”

“Yeah. Out,” he muttered against Dom’s shoulder.

“All right. I’ll just get your towel.” Dom slowly, carefully let Billy go, making sure he wasn’t going to slip as he sat upright. He stiffly got to his feet and crossed over to the towel rack on the wall, pulling off Billy’s large navy towel and returning to the side of the tub. He tossed the towel over his shoulder, gripped Billy under the arms, and helped him to his feet, holding him steady for a moment until he had his balance. Without looking lower than Billy’s chin, Dom wrapped the towel around him tightly from shoulders to knees. “Okay, Billy, I’ll hang onto you, just step out of the tub. Careful, go slow!” he warned when Billy immediately lurched towards him.

Once out of the tub, Billy just stood there, dripping and shaking, and Dom didn’t know if he was shivering from cold or something else. After pulling the plug in the drain, Dom grabbed another towel to dry Billy’s legs, his feet, and did his best to dry the rest of him with the towel wrapped around him.

“C’mon,” he finally murmured. “Bedroom.” They went wordlessly, and once there Dom made Billy sit on the bed while he dug out some clothes for him. “Okay, Bill, stand up.” He crouched down with Billy’s clean pants, ready for him to step in, but Billy didn’t move.

“Dom,” he muttered, instead.

“Yeah?”

“This ‘s…’s gonna stop soon, right?”

Dom kneeled in front of him, reached up to briskly rub his arms through the towel. “Is what going to stop?”

“Me. Bein’…stupid. Like this. Need t’ think, but I can’t.”

“Yeah, it’ll stop soon, Bills. Promise.”

“’Kay. Okay. ‘F you say so. ‘M cold, Dom.”

“All right.” He smiled up at Billy. “Then get off your arse and we’ll get you dressed.”

 

 

After Billy was dressed in his trackies and a thick jumper, Dom insisted he relax on the sofa under a blanket until he was well and truly warm, overriding his feeble protests easily. “I’ll bring you a cup of tea and you can watch a little telly. I’ve got things to do anyway.”

Billy frowned up at him. “What things?”

“Just things. Would you quit worrying about everything, please?”

He looked down. “’M sorry…”

Dom chuckled, fondly said, “You’re such a daft git, my Bills. Get comfy—I’ll be back in a few minutes with your tea.” He turned to go, but was stopped by Billy’s soft voice.

“Dom. Sorry ‘m—‘m such a useless lump.”

Dom returned to him, leaned over, took Billy’s head firmly between his long, strong fingers, and kissed his forehead. He then looked directly into Billy’s eyes and said, “It’s all uphill from here. Be patient.”

Billy nodded mutely.

Dom gave him a warm, encouraging smile, let him go, and went to the kitchen. After plugging the kettle in and getting two mugs out of the cupboard, he sat himself at the table and dropped his head onto his arms.

God, but this was hard, he inwardly groaned. Poor Billy was just blindly groping for any sort of explanation, understanding, his emotions were up and down from one extreme to the other, it was all Dom could do to keep up and it was utterly exhausting. And he just couldn’t _read_ Billy when he was like this, he felt powerless to do anything that might help him sort it out. He wasn’t worried about what Billy had said in the tub about being afraid of him, he knew for certain it wasn’t true—after all, Billy would hardly need to be held by someone he was scared of, would he? But he was obviously scared of something, so what could it be?

And then Dom’s brain completely betrayed him by thinking that what Billy might be afraid of was how he _felt_ about Dom, afraid of _telling_ Dom how he felt, but he shied away from that thought immediately because no matter which way he looked at it, it was far too shattering to contemplate. If Billy didn’t have any feelings for him beyond their remarkable friendship, it would be difficult enough for Dom to deal with—but if Billy _did_ care for him more than that but was afraid of it? It wasn’t like he was straight and finding himself attracted to a bloke for the first time. It just didn’t bear thinking about.

The kettle began to whistle, so Dom resolved to let his worries lie for now, just as he had urged Billy to do, and he quickly made two mugs of tea, dropped an ice cube and a straw in one, and carried them out to the living room.

He found Billy with the TV remote on his knee, scowling as he tried to stab the buttons with the end of his middle finger which was the only one that extended past the gauze. Dom couldn’t tell if he was trying to raise the volume, which was currently at the low end of audible, or change the channel. He was managing both, neither successfully. Dom left him to it while he pulled the coffee table closer and set Billy’s mug directly in front of him, then sat back with his own mug.

Dom waited a minute, during which Billy continued prodding at the remote, but he finally said, “Let me know if you want a hand. Or a finger, as the case may be.”

“What th’ fuck,” Billy muttered. “Y’ only ever use one finger. I’m usin’ one finger. Unbelievable.”

Dom chuckled, but didn’t say anything.

Finally Billy apparently found the channel he wanted, because he stopped poking at the remote and sighed. “Can y’ help—the volume? Please?”

“No,” Dom said coolly.

Billy’s head swiveled in consternation and he stared.

Dom reached over and grabbed the remote off Billy’s knee and grinned at him. “Bloody stupid question, wanker.”

Billy released a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding and jabbed Dom with his elbow. “Twat.”

“Mardarse.”

“Gobshite.” Billy leaned forward and took a tentative, careful sip of his tea.

“Is it all right?”

“Aye. ‘S good. Thanks, Dom.”

“You’re welcome.” Dom propped his stocking feet up on the coffee table as Billy relaxed back again, and the two watched TV in companionable silence for a while.

Finally, though, Dom finished his tea, sighed, and rose. “I’ll be back in a bit, then. Stuff to do, you know.”

“What stuff?”

“Just the usual. Laundry. I have to call Fran, see if she found someone to come replace the window. Make dinner.”

“Dom, y’ don’ have to. Laundry can wait. Order dinner.”

“Laundry _can’t_ wait, you’re down to your last couple pairs of shorts,” Dom grinned at him. “And it’s been a while since I had the _time_ to cook a real meal, so I’d like to. If you don’t mind me messing up your kitchen, that is.”

“Go for it.” Billy suddenly smiled widely, and Dom was helpless to keep from smiling in return. He held up his bandaged hands and said, “Jus’ remember, you’re—you’re in charge of cleanin’ up.”

Dom rolled his eyes. “Oh, now I get it, I’m just your own personal chef, your slave, here to cater to your every whim!”

“In’t—innit what a—a—y’ know. Fuck. A cabana boy does?”

Dom cocked his head to the side. “Hmm. You may have a point. Give us a shout if you need anything, yeah?”

 

 

An hour later Billy stuck his head into the kitchen to request a visit to the bathroom. As Dom pushed his trousers down, Billy hopefully said, “Maybe by t’morrow—can do this m’self.”

“Tomorrow?” Dom frowned. “I don’t know about that.”

“Three days. She said t’ start—start usin’ m’ right hand in three days. That’s what the—the—y’ know. Doctor. ‘S what she said. What day’s today?”

Dom lowered Billy’s pants. “It’s only Tuesday.”

“Monday, Tuesday. Wen—Wes—t’morrow,” he insisted doggedly. “Three days.”

“But you still needed painkillers today, Bill.”

“Yeah, but mostly for m’ left. Still hurts like a bugger. Right’s not so bad.”

“Well…we’ll see about that tomorrow, okay? Let’s wait and see how it is tomorrow.”

 

 

Half an hour later, with Billy back in front of the TV, Dom took him in a cold drink complete with straw. “How’s it going, Bill?”

“All right, I guess. Kinda bored. These people’re stupid.” Billy waved a hand in the direction of the TV, and Dom saw he was watching a talk show.

He sat on the arm of the chair. “What’s the topic today? ‘My neighbour ate my dog’?”

Billy snickered. “Close. ‘I’m in love with m’ stepdaughter’.”

Dom made a face. “That’s disgusting. Those men ought to be arrested.”

“One of ‘em’s a woman.”

“You’re having me on.”

“Nope. Second from th’ end.”

Dom looked. “Good God. She looks like a games mistress I had in Germany when I was eight. Great big Bulgarian woman.”

Billy started to chuckle, and soon was laughing helplessly.

Dom stared at him. “What?”

“Bulgarian games mistress!” he howled.

“And that’s hilariously funny, is it?” Dom eyed him sideways.

“Is in _my_ head,” Billy gasped.

Dom whistled through his teeth. “You’re still right fucked, aren’t you?”

“Pro—prob’ly,” he managed. After a few minutes, his laughter finally began to ease, and he dried the corner of one eye with the gauze on the back of his hand, trying to catch his breath. “Ah shite, but that made me tired,” he chuckled.

“Glad you amuse yourself so much,” Dom grinned at him.

“ _You_ try all this—this—these pills. See how y’ do.” Billy stuck his tongue out.

“I know. Have I mentioned how great you’re doing today?”

“On what planet? Have y’ forgotten—forgotten. Ah, _fuck_. Unbelievable. I can’t ‘member what you’ve forgotten.”

“It’s all right, Bill,” Dom chuckled. “Yes, there’ve been a few rough moments, but you’re doing fine. Listen, if you’re bored, is there something you’d like to do?”

“Surfing?”

“Considering the hands, I think not. Next?"

“Ehm… Dunno. You’re askin’ th’ man with no brain.”

“True. Well…do you want to read?”

Billy stared at him. “Unless y’ got some—some. Whatshisname. Dr. Seuss. Don’ think I’m up for that.”

“Ah. Right. Perhaps not today.” He flushed a bit. “Sorry.”

“What about—no. Won’ work.”

“You could—bugger. No you can’t.”

“Oh, fuck it,” Billy muttered. “Never mind. I’ll jus’ sit here like—like th’ bloody great lump I am.”

Dom went over and sat beside him, leaning against his shoulder. “You’re not a lump, Bills. I’m sorry I can’t think of anything. I’d take you out for a drive or something, but the bloke’s coming to fix your window…”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Billy—come on, why don’t you come to the kitchen with me?” Dom urged. “Keep me company while I start cooking.”

“No. I’ll jus’—jus’ watch TV.”

“Bills—“

“Go ‘way, Dom,” he mumbled. “Jus’ go.”

Dom hesitated, then said, “If you need anything at all, you call me. Promise?”

Billy just nodded.

Dom bit his lip, then left.

 

 

A few minutes later the doorbell rang, and Dom called, “I’ll get it, Bill.” Completely unnecessarily, it seemed, as when he walked through, Billy hadn’t even looked up, let alone moved. Nor did he as Dom showed the glazier through to the bedroom. Saying, “Go nuts, mate,” he left the man to it, hearing his assistant on the outside.

Dom returned to the kitchen to finish up the vegetables for dinner. As he peeled and then parboiled the potatoes, he kept one ear out for Billy while the other listened to the racket being made by the glaziers. While he was wondering what a particularly loud flurry of hammering was accomplishing, Billy walked into the kitchen behind Dom and startled him.

“Open th’ door.”

Dom jumped. “Bill—bloody hell, you shouldn’t sneak up on people who might be holding knives, you twat.”

“Open th’ door.”

“What door?”

He went to stand by the door to the backyard. “Open it. Lemme th’ fuck out.”

“What? Why? It’s a bit cold out today, you know.”

“Need t’ get away from—“ He winced at a loud bang from the bedroom. “From that.”

“You’ll still be able to hear it outside,” Dom reminded him.

“Not in m’ head. Open the fucking _door_.”

“All right, hold on, then. I’ll just get you a jacket.”

“Dom—“

“Sorry, Bills, but a jumper’s not enough. You don’t need to get sick on top of everything else. Slip your shoes on while I grab you a jacket,” he insisted, gesturing to the shoes still sitting where Billy had kicked them the day before after coming inside with Fran.

Dom returned a moment later with Billy’s warmest jacket and helped him into it, not bothering to zip it up. Billy immediately turned. “Open th’ door.”

“All right. I’ll prop it open a bit so you can get back in if I’m not right here. If you get cold, come in.”

“Goddamn it, Dom, quit treatin’ me like—like ‘m a fuckin’ child!” Billy snapped, then kicked the door. “Open th’ goddamned door right _now_!”

Biting his tongue, Dom opened the door to let Billy storm through, just barely preventing himself from slamming it shut. “And stay out,” he muttered, then immediately felt guilty. It wasn’t Billy’s fault. He propped the door open with a box of pasta, just enough that Billy would be able to push the door open with his elbow, and looked out the small window to see what he was doing. He watched as Billy furiously paced from one end of the small yard to the other, muttering to himself, although obviously quietly as Dom couldn’t hear him through the cracked-open door.

Over the next three-quarters of an hour Dom revolved between checking on Billy, checking on the workmen, checking on dinner, and doing laundry, and he was starting to feel slightly frazzled. Billy seemed to be alternating between pacing—although less angrily now—and sitting huddled on the porch steps. Even as Dom watched, he slowly rose again, looking a little unsteady, and began trudging the length of the yard once more.

Frustrated, Dom went to see how long it would be until the workmen finished, only to find them packing up. He wrinkled his nose at a strong, sharp smell filling the bedroom.

The glazier noticed, and said, “It’s just the sealant. It will go away.”

“How long will it take?” Dom frowned.

“Couple hours. It’ll be gone by the time you go to bed. If you leave the window open it’ll help.”

“All right. Thanks, mate. Ehm—what do I owe you—“

He shook his head. “All taken care of. The lady who called the job in said to bill her.”

“Okay. Thanks, then.” Dom saw them out, then locked the front door. He pulled out Billy’s vacuum and cleaned up the little bit of mess they’d left, opened the window, and went to get Billy.

He was sitting on the steps again, hunched down into his jacket. Dom went out and sat down beside him, and for a few minutes stayed silent, wondering if Billy would say anything about what was going on in his head, but he didn’t.

“They’re gone, Bill. It’s quiet again, if you want to come in.”

“Window fixed?” he asked very quietly.

“Yes.”

“’S good. Thanks, Dom.”

“Fran took care of it all.” Dom watched him, concerned that he had no clue what Billy was thinking or feeling.

“Was nice of her.”

“Yeah, it was. Billy—“

“Dom?” he said, as if he hadn’t heard him. “You said—y’ said to tell you if…if…” He trailed off.

“What, Bills?”

“If ‘m not…doin’ so well.”

“Okay. Let’s go in,” Dom said softly but immediately. He stood and leaned down to put a hand under Billy’s elbow to help him rise wearily, a little shakily. They wordlessly went inside, and Dom helped him out of his jacket, dropping it on a kitchen chair as Billy toed off his shoes. Dom put a hand on his back to gently propel him into the living room and was dismayed to feel him trembling. “Are you cold?”

“I—I s’pose. A bit.”

“Come on. Sit down, Bills.” Dom waited until Billy was seated on the sofa and spread the blanket over his lap. He then sat a little ways away, and held his arm out. “Lay down. Relax with me for a bit, my Bills.”

“Dom—“ he whispered.

“Put your head on my knee, my Bills. Let’s relax and warm up a bit, yeah?” Dom kept his voice low and even. “Just for a while. You can even take a nap if you like, I’ll wake you in time for dinner. That’s it—make sure you’re comfortable.”

Billy eased onto his side, shifting over until he could lay his head on Dom’s thigh, facing out into the room.

Dom reached over and adjusted the blanket, pulling it right up to Billy’s shoulders. “That’s it. That’s better, isn’t it?” he asked with an affectionate smile. “Now we’ll both just sit back and relax for a little while.” He let one arm rest loosely over Billy’s, but with the other he began gently stroking Billy’s hair. “I think spending that long walking around outside was a bit much for you today, wasn’t it?”

“How am I gonna—gonna go back t’ filming, if I can’t even—“ Billy began, sounding wretched.

“Oh, hey, Bills—don’t you worry about that. This is just today,” Dom reassured him quietly, raking his fingers through Billy’s hair. “By the time you get back to filming, you’ll be ready for those fourteen hour days again. You’ll be fine, I promise. I won’t let them have you back until you are,” he smiled.

“But I have t’ get back—‘m holding everything up—“

“William Boyd,” he said firmly, chidingly. “You promised Fran you weren’t going to worry about it. They’re pros, Bill, a lot more so than you or I—they know what they’re doing. Leave it to them.”

“It’s so hard…”

“What is, my Bills?”

“Not—not worrying,” he said, his voice so low Dom had to strain to hear it. “’M always—I never used t’ be like this—“

“I guess me constantly telling you to _stop_ worrying isn’t helping, is it?”

“No, it is…it is a bit.” Billy somehow managed to move even closer to Dom.

“I think this is something we should talk about, Billy,” Dom murmured. “When you can think a little more clearly, can we talk about what’s making you worry so much?”

“S’pose. I dunno, though.”

“Well, that’s why we’ll talk about it. See if we can figure it out.”

Billy began to squirm, to shift, to struggle against the blanket.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. Here.” He finally managed to roll over, wriggled up a little until he could rest his head on Dom’s stomach, but the angle of his neck looked far from comfortable.

Dom slouched down until Billy was able to relax his neck, to turn his head so his face was half-hidden in Dom’s sweatshirt. “Hey, Bills?” he suddenly asked softly, one hand still stroking Billy’s hair while the other pressed firmly against his back.

“Yeah?”

“Do you feel lonely right now?”

Billy was silent for a moment, as if checking. “Not so much. Not right now.”

“Does this help?” Dom moved the hand on Billy’s back in small circles.

“Yeah.”

“And does this help?” He buried his hand in Billy’s hair.

“Yeah.”

“Anything else?”

Billy turned further towards Dom, pressing his face fully into the sweatshirt. He awkwardly put his arm across Dom’s stomach and hugged Dom’s sides with his forearms, keeping his hands out of the way. “This,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the sweatshirt until it was nearly indecipherable.

“Do you think you would ever feel it under your ribs, feel that empty space inside, as long as we’re here, like this?”

“Don’ think so.” Billy spoke into the sweatshirt, but got fuzz on his tongue. He turned his head and used the tip of his middle finger to scrape it off, then laid the side of his face on Dom’s stomach. “Not much, anyway,” he added belatedly.

“All right. I want you to promise me something, Billy,” Dom said gently. “I want you to promise me that anytime this week, if you feel that space get too wide, if you feel hollow under your ribs, if it starts to hurt, you’ll either sit me down here or tell me. And I mean _anytime_ this week, I don’t care if we’re in the bloody supermarket, all right? You tell me, and we’ll come back here. Will you promise?” He looked down at Billy, saw his eyes were closed and his brows drawn together.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to have a place you can count on, somewhere you _know_ you’ll feel better for a while, where you won’t be lonely or worried. Remember how I said the trailer was a refuge for you? That nothing could follow you in there? Well, this is your refuge now, Bills.” Dom flattened the hair over Billy’s forehead down, then brushed it back again. “Nothing can follow you here, as long as we’re in this spot, your head on my tum, the blanket wrapping you up—as long as we’re here just like this, nothing can bother you.”

“TV on, too,” Billy mumbled.

Dom smiled. “Yeah, with the TV on too. And you can talk about it if you want to, or not if you just want to be quiet. When we’re _here_ , it’s completely up to you. So you don’t have to worry that if you sit me down here I’m going to grill you about what’s wrong, okay?”

The deep wrinkles on Billy’s forehead smoothed a little, and Dom realized that was probably the best thing he could have reassured him with.

“Promise me, then, Bills? That if you need this, you’ll tell me—no matter where we are or what we’re doing?”

“I—I guess…” He pressed his nose against Dom.

“No, don’t guess—promise,” Dom insisted, smiling.

“…Promise.”

“Thank you, my Bills.” Dom fell silent then, continuing to rub up and down Billy’s back through the blanket, the fingers of his other hand still threaded in Billy’s hair. He leaned his head back against the sofa, idly watching TV, letting Billy shift and fidget and burrow until finally he grew still, and within minutes his breath was softly whistling through his teeth.

And the fact that he’d fallen asleep so quickly, so easily? Dom hoped it meant two things; firstly, that sleep was not going to be such a struggle for him now, that the many hours he’d gotten in the last two days had brought him back to the point of being able to rest normally. And secondly, Dom hoped Billy falling straight to sleep like that meant that he _would_ be able to retreat to this spot for relaxing and letting go, that it could be…well, almost like a safety net for him. It was a bit of an experiment, really, but Dom was hoping having this little sanctuary might let Billy push a little further afield when it came to sorting out what was bothering him, that he would feel more confident delving into the things that upset him as long as he could retreat to this if he needed to.

Twenty minutes later, Dom eased out from underneath Billy, carefully replacing his support with cushions, and he froze when Billy mumbled something incoherent, but the whistling resumed and with relief Dom crept out to the kitchen to see to dinner.

Half an hour later, he returned to the living room and perched on the edge of the sofa. Putting a hand on Billy’s shoulder, he gave a gentle squeeze and quietly said, “Billy? Time to wake up, mate.” When there was no response, he squeezed a bit harder and spoke in nearly a normal voice. “Wake up, Bill, it’s time for dinner.”

Nothing.

Dom sighed. He leaned over, grabbed Billy’s shoulder and gave him a firm shake as he loudly said right in his ear, “Bill—wake up.” And then Dom promptly fell off the sofa with a yelp when Billy thrashed, shouted something that sounded like, “Lettuce!”, and sat bolt upright, panting.

“Jesusfuck, Bill!” Dom breathlessly complained. “You scared the bloody hell out of me!” He pressed the heel of his hand to his chest as if to keep his heart from leaping out.

Billy looked bewildered. “What—what—“

“You must have been dreaming,” he muttered, feeling his pulse begin to slow.

“Why’re you on th’ floor?” Billy asked, his forehead wrinkling.

“It’s a little startling when someone who’s soundly asleep shouts ‘Lettuce!’ in your face, you know.” Catching his breath, Dom started to grin.

Billy stared at him. “Lettuce?”

“Must have been one hell of a dream to have you wake up yelling ‘lettuce’,” Dom commented cheerfully as he picked himself up off the carpeting.

“Lettuce…”

“Yes, Billy, that was the word, I think we can stop saying it now.” He sat down on the edge of the sofa, landing on Billy’s feet.

But Billy didn’t even notice, thinking so hard his eyes were squinched shut. A moment later his face cleared, he looked at Dom, and he began to laugh.

“What? Do you remember what you were dreaming?”

Billy laughed harder.

Dom began to grin. “What? C’mon, tell me!”

“Oh my God,” Billy gasped. “I really need t’ get off these fuckin’ drugs!”

“What was the lettuce about?”

“We—we were in Treebeard…” he howled, and couldn’t continue.

Dom started to chuckle. “Ah, come on, Bill, you’re killing me here.”

“Sorry—sorry—“ he said, nearly breathless from laughing. “We were up top, like usual. An’ something happened below.” He was still barely able to speak, had to keep stopping for fits of giggles and snickers and deep-down belly laughs, and Dom thought he hadn’t heard such a wonderful sound in a long time. “Somebody—on th’ crew—hurt Treebeard. Tore a chunk of th’ bark off. Or—or somethin’ like that.” It was another minute before he could continue, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “An’ you—an’ y’ shouted—‘Quick! Someone get th’ lettuce!’” He broke down again.

Dom laughed, despite the fact that he didn’t quite get what was so funny. “Let me guess, they left me up there for the rest of the day?”

“No! No, that’s just it!” Billy gasped, clutching at Dom’s arm. “Y’ were—were serious! An’ they did! Fetched some lettuce, an’—an’ put it on th’ bark—where he’d been—been hurt! An’ it made him—made him—y’ know. All better!” He fell about, howling.

Dom was laughing out loud now, too, but as much at Billy as about his bizarre dream. “It’s like a vegetarian skin graft, innit?”

Billy’s arm waved weakly in a negative gesture. “Gets—gets better,” he wheezed.

“Better than a lettuce skin graft for an animatronic tree?” Dom snorted, trying to get hold of himself.

“Yes! Your—your branch moved. Like—jerked,” he explained, barely able to hold his head up he was so weak from laughing. “Nailed you—right in—in th’ manhood.”

“Manhood?” Dom snickered. “You been reading romance novels again, Bill?”

Billy ignored that in favour of continuing his story, wheezing, “An’—an’ then I yelled, ‘Someone get th’ lettuce!’, an’—“

“Oh, that’s nice. Such sympathy, even in your dreams!” Dom exclaimed, grinning.

“No, no, no,” he protested, nearly panting. “I was ser—serious too! An’ they did! They brought lettuce! For your balls!” he howled.

Dom started laughing again.

“So—so everyone took a break while you—while y’ shoved lettuce in your pants!”

Dom threw back his head, laughing delightedly.

“An’ then—then I asked—asked y’ which one caught it, an’ y’ said—y’ said ‘Raoul’!”

Still chuckling, Dom asked, “So who’s Raoul?”

“Your left one! Y’ named your balls, Dom! Y’ named your balls Serge and Raoul!” Billy dissolved into complete incoherency, face red and tears streaming down his cheeks.

Dom burst into loud, helpless laughter, howling so hard he slid off the edge of the sofa onto the floor and leaned his head on the cushion near Billy, who sounded like he might never stop laughing again.

It was several minutes before either of them stopped, but then Dom made the mistake of weakly chuckling, “Serge and Raoul?” and they were off again.

It wasn’t until Billy clamped his arm over his stomach and moaned, “Ah, God, I think ‘m gonna—throw up,” that Dom remembered part of dinner still in the oven, and he staggered to his feet.

“Get a grip, Boyd,” he said sternly, but the effect was rather ruined by the little gasping noises he made trying to stifle giggles. “I am going to put dinner on the table. You have five minutes.”


End file.
